The Tale Continues
by endlesspath
Summary: Sequel to What Started with a Spark. Agendas collide within The Company as figures from its past reappear on the map. Friendships are both cemented and torn apart as the Heroes' greatest challenge looms overhead. EnsembleOC. PeterElleOC. CHP 17 UP
1. Chapter 1: It was only the Beginning

Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes, just the characters I created.

A/N: This is the sequel to What Started with a Spark. It follows the events immediately after that and Volume Two: Generations. The storyline is completely different from What Started with a Spark. The only thing that is continuous is the OC: Dean's story arc, all of the canon characters pick up from where volume two left them. If you're just beginning this story and are actually reading this author's note, the ensemble only applies to the first segment, while the PeterElleOC applies to the second and third.

Anyway, this story will be divided into three parts. Enjoy! Oh, and major spoilers for the Volume two finale and the rest of season two! As well as some of the confirmed spoilers for season three used in the story, like characters and things like that.

* * *

**Part One: ****The Domino Effect**

The sound of bullets tearing into flesh immediately sent quick waves of panic through Matt's body. He turned and saw Nathan fall, two bright red bloodstains blossoming across his shirt. Sudden screams filled the conference room of Odessa Police Department as the reporters and public realised what had just happened.

Matt ignored the screams of terror and tried to step towards Nathan. Peter had gone straight to his brother the moment he saw him fall, and was now holding Nathan tightly in his arms, breathing heavily from the sudden shock and fear. It was at that moment, when Nathan was closing his eyes, that Matt looked up and saw the man.

He seemed oddly out of place with the rest of the panicked crowd. He stood near the back of the room, blending in with the reporters and police. He was dressed entirely in black, a look that seemed to make him stand out in the throng of panicked people. A baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes, casting shadows over his face that kept Matt from identifying his face. The very look of the man made fresh bursts of adrenaline pour into Matt's body, making his heart pound loudly in his chest. The deafening noise in the room dulled and all he could hear was the rapid beating in his heart.

The man turned and began to weave his way through the few people in his way. Matt stared after him, his eyes focusing on the one thing that stood out to him above everything else: the handgun equipped with a silencer held loosely in the man's hand. It wasn't just a reporter or someone there to hear Nathan's revelation. This man had shot Nathan, and now he was about to get away unopposed.

Matt stepped away from Peter and his fallen brother and began to run off of the stage and deeper inside the police station. He didn't know how, but he knew the shooter wasn't going to leave through the front entrance. Call it experience, or common sense, or even intuition, Matt knew where he had to go.

He pulled open a door and emerged into a room filled with deserted desks and chairs. Every cop in the station had abandoned their desks in favour of hearing Nathan speak. It was a favourable position for the shooter, there was no-one there to get in his way.

Matt pulled his gun out of its holster and began to jog cautiously through the room, scanning every inch of space as he ran. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the black-capped shooter striding quickly through one of the numerous rooms that were separated by a layer of glass.

The shooter, as if sensing Matt's gaze, turned and looked straight at him.

Matt took a step back as their eyes met. A shiver of fear swept through Matt's body, causing him to momentarily freeze. Even though he was looking straight at the shooter, he still couldn't make out his face. Matt raised his weapon, pointing at the shooter's chest.

_Get down!_

Matt's legs collapsed underneath him as the shooter raised his own weapon and shot twice. The bullets shattered the screen of glass and flew harmlessly over Matt's head.

Matt sucked in a dizzying breath and staggered to his feet, holding his gun in front of him and pointed towards the shattered window. The shooter had taken advantage of Matt's collapse and had walked out of the room, disappearing into one of the long hallways that wound through the police station.

Matt began to run. He sprinted over the broken glass and towards a door that was only just swinging shut. Reaching out a hand, he grasped the door handle and pulled it open. He emerged into the hallway and looked around.

The shooter was pushing open a side door that led outside the police station. The sound of traffic and sirens could be heard emerging from the streets outside. Matt sprinted down the hall and burst through the door seconds after the shooter.

Matt skidded to a halt on the rough pavement outside the police station and nearly lowered his weapon in surprise. The shooter stood against the wall opposite the exit and was staring at Matt with unblinking eyes. His face was enwreathed by shadows created by the hat and the opposing wall.

"Stay where you are!" Matt ordered as he took a step forward, his weapon held ready and alert. The shooter said nothing, he didn't even give any indication that he heard. There was something familiar about him to Matt, something he knew he should know.

Matt frowned and began to probe into the shooters mind, trying to hear his thoughts.

Matt clutched his head with his free hand as sudden backlash and echoes painfully entered his brain. Matt groaned in pain as image after image flooded into his head. Each image was more disturbing than the last, flashing by so quickly Matt couldn't register them, only the imprint of sadness and death and fire.

The images and indistinct voices stopped abruptly as the shooter jerked suddenly and stepped forward towards Matt angrily, his gun pointed at Matt's head.

Matt squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the inevitable click of the trigger being pulled. He stayed like that for several seconds before opening his eyes and looking up. The shooter was gone, vanished from the alleyway leaving no trace of his passing.

Matt breathed heavily and listened to the rapidly approaching ambulance sirens. He wondered if they would make it in time.

* * *

"I'm back!"

Sylar grinned as he examined the can he had telekinetically pulled towards him. He released it and watched it float just outside of his reach. His grin widened as he clenched his fist. The can shuddered for a moment before it was completely crushed by the telekinetic strain.

Sylar leaned back against the wall for a moment, sighing in satisfaction as Mohinder's cure healed the electrical burns he had suffered at the hands of the blonde woman. She was full of life and power, burning bright and hot. He wanted what she had, and he knew he would go as far as he had to go to get it.

He picked himself up and stood at his full height. That woman would fight him. She would struggle and throw everything she had against him in her bid for survival. The very thought of it sent excited chills down his spine. The effort required would be more than worth it in the end.

He hadn't felt a feeling like this in months, not since New York when he hunted for Ted Sprague. Not since Odessa when he hunted for Claire Bennet. He would succeed this time, it was his imperative.

Sylar chuckled to himself as he began to walk out of the alley. The thrill of the hunt consumed him.

* * *

It had been a long time since Elle had been congratulated for her efforts, a long time since anyone had really appreciated her for what she had done. She loved the feeling, it didn't matter how small it was or how it came about. She loved that feeling of self-achievement and pride that came with it. So when Mohinder reassured her, she smiled and felt that warm glow again. "…Cool."

She walked down the concrete steps the laboratory, carefully avoiding jagged pieces of broken glass and the numerous bloodstains that were smeared across the floor.

"We have to go!" Mohinder said quickly, immediately jerking Elle away from her thoughts with the open fear and anxiety in his tone. "Sylar took the cure."

"What do you mean he took it?!" Elle exclaimed as she stepped forward and grabbed the metal strongbox that held the syringe and vials. It was empty.

"He took the cure with him when you drove him off!" Mohinder said as he began to search around for his bag. "You have no idea how dangerous he is."

"Oh, I have an idea." Elle replied, folding her arms defiantly across her chest. "And I can handle him. I know I can. And anyway, it will be a while before he comes back. I hit him pretty good."

"You're wrong." Molly piped up, causing Elle to direct her glare towards the little girl. "He's coming, I can feel it. You can't stop the boogieman!"

Elle felt chills run through her body at the solemn certainty and fear in Molly's voice. "My dad will kill me if I don't do everything I can to bring Sylar in." Elle said stubbornly.

"_Sylar_ will kill you if you stay!" Mohinder insisted. "You say you know how dangerous he is. But if you really had an idea, you would not want to stay here and fight him. Do you really think Bob will be disappointed in you if you come with us?"

"You don't know anything about me, or my father!"

"It still doesn't change the facts. You're hurt! Before you caught Sylar by surprise, he'll be expecting you and he'll be a lot more dangerous than he was before. Come with us, Elle!"

Elle tried not to squirm under Mohinder's gaze. She hated to admit any kind of fear or uncertainty, but she knew Mohinder was right about this. She could not fight Sylar when she had her arm in a sling — not if she wanted to survive. "Okay…" She said quietly. "Grab whatever you can. I'm not going to let Sylar take any information from this place. My dad will _really_ kill me if I lead Sylar back to Hartsdale."

Mohinder nodded and stood up, clutching Molly's hand tightly in his. Elle noticed the Honduran woman was staring at the exit Sylar had gone through with something very close to hate in her eyes.

"We have to erase all the data here." Elle said as she turned around and faced the series of computer equipment. They had only been slightly disturbed by Sylar's flight, many of them were still in their upright positions, and a lot more hadn't even be touched. "We can't leave anything here that can be traced back to The Company."

"Erasing everything here will take hours!" Mohinder said. "We don't have time—"

"I can handle it." Elle interrupted. "Just make sure that there aren't any hard copies left around."

"Okay, Elle."

Elle nodded in satisfaction and looked at the computers. She knew how to erase a computer's hard-drive completely, but she had to be extremely careful and delicate. Delicacy had never been one of her strengths. It was a lot easier to just destroy everything beyond repair. It was a lot more entertaining too.

Elle extended her free hand and directed it towards the nearest computer. Electricity sparked into life, dancing across her fingers and forming into a harsh-glowing ball of blue light. Elle held it in her palm for a moment, loving the feeling of power that came with her electricity. It lasted only a second before the ball streamed from her hand, striking the computer in a flurry of sparks.

She heard a small scream behind her as the computer exploded in a flash of orange sparks and electricity. Another small explosion and another round of sparks flared as the electricity shorted out and destroyed the next computer in line. Small flames began to emerge from the shattered computer screens, slowly growing bigger with each passing second.

Elle sent two more balls of electricity streaking over to the other machinery across the lab. The equipment shattered in a shower of sparks and flames. The flames wafted higher, until the fire sprinklers positioned across the roof activated.

Elle groaned as the sprinklers quickly drenched her and the now spluttering flames. "Perfect." She said sarcastically to herself as she turned around and left the sprinklers to put out the fires.

Mohinder stood just inside the laboratory, as dripping wet as she was. Molly and the Honduran woman had managed to get out before the sprinklers activated.

She swiftly walked towards the exit, wanting to get out of the water and outside into the sun as soon as she could. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to shiver. "Let's go. My power doesn't work properly when I'm wet. If Sylar finds us now, I'll just make things worse."

"Okay, Elle. Let's get out of here." Mohinder said as he walked out of the laboratory.

Elle started to follow him, but paused as she felt a shiver not caused by the wet or the cold. It was like someone was watching her. She turned around and gazed through the destroyed laboratory. Goosebumps sprung up across her body that were only half caused by her dropping body temperature. She frowned as she thought she saw something move near the back of the lab, through the hallway where Sylar had escaped.

The sound of a beaker tipping over and shattering caused Elle to look away from the spot and towards the source of the noise. She looked at the shattered glass for a moment before turning back to the hallway door.

She stared at the place closely for a moment, before shaking her head. "Elle, you're imagining things." She tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach, the feeling like she was being watched, and took another wary glance around the laboratory. Nothing else moved. She shrugged her shoulders and followed Mohinder's wet shoeprints out of the lab, closing the door firmly behind her.


	2. Chapter 2: Stolen Time

"Welcome to hell." Caitlin said sadly as she laid her hand on Dean's shoulder and patted it comfortingly.

Dean's mouth gaped open. He looked between Caitlin and the red-lettered warning sign with startled eyes. _How do I manage to get myself into these situations? _He thought sardonically. _Maybe it's the woman. __I can never seem to resist a damsel in distress._ _Or maybe it's got something to do with Ireland, but there's no way any part of me would ever want to come back here; not after my last visit anyway._

"You okay?" Caitlin asked, staring worriedly up at him.

Dean smiled weakly, "Ah, yeah, I think so. I'm just trying not to freak out on you, you know?"

"Yeah, I know the feeling." Caitlin smiled ruefully. "Well, you won't be here for much longer anyway."

"What?" Dean asked, looking at her in renewed surprise. "Why?"

"You stick out like a sore thumb," shrugged Caitlin. "Your clothes are probably the most colourful things I've seen since I've been here, and anyone will be able to tell you're American—it's the accent."

"Okay, well since I won't be here long. You mind explaining a few things for me?"

"Go ahead." Caitlin responded easily. "It's not like they'll find us yet. They're in the middle the daily testing. It takes a few hours to go through everyone."

"Testing?" Dean asked. It was best to start simple first.

"Oh, well since this is a quarantined area, we have to get tested every day so the hazmat teams can check if you've contracted the virus. It's a shell game mostly. The only way they can tell if someone's got the virus is when the person gets symptoms. The virus can be carried for weeks before symptoms appear though. But they still keep on testing, hoping they'll get lucky—or unlucky, depending how you look at it."

"You don't have the virus, do you?" Dean inquired, taking a step back from Caitlin as she sneezed.

Caitlin laughed and shook her head, "No, I don't think so. No one really knows for sure until you get the symptoms. And then you've only got a few days at best." She looked at him hopefully. "Now I've got a question for you."

"Shoot," Dean shrugged.

"I saw you appear in the middle here," she said, gesturing around at the concrete plateau. "You teleported. Did Peter ask you to save me?"

"What? I haven't seen Peter since back in Cork about a week—I mean technically over a year ago now. Wait, did he…?" Dean paused and looked down at Caitlin's sad face. She looked like she was about to cry.

"Oh, ah…it's okay," he said soothingly, awkwardly putting an arm around her shoulders. It was obvious to him that Caitlin had been bottling up all of her feelings, just waiting for some familiar face to arrive. He knew that much at least, but that was because it happened to Elle a little bit when they were younger. _Before that stupid trip to Miami ruined it all_,_ it was awkward between us after that._

"I didn't mean to come," Dean said over Caitlin's sniffles. _Why does she have to cry?_ He thought hopelessly. It was worse when the person never struck him as the type to break down. "Did Peter bring you here?"

Caitlin nodded and said something unintelligible under her breath.

_Damn it, __I didn't hear a word of that!_ He released Caitlin and watched her struggle to shove the stopper back on her emotions.

"Sorry," Caitlin said as she dried her eyes with grey sweater's sleeve. "I'm not usually like that."

"Na, it's alright," grinned Dean as he patted her shoulder, mimicking her actions towards him earlier. "Umm, are you all calmed down now?"

Caitlin laughed which quickly turned into a hacking cough. Dean fought the urge to step back from her. He could almost hear Lily's voice in his head, telling him that if he did something insensitive she'd kick his ass when he got back. _At least she's not crying anymore,_ he thought with a sigh of relief.

"What about you?" Caitlin asked as soon as the fit of coughing died down. "Are you about to start freaking out?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "Oh, I dunno. I think I'm taking this pretty well, don't you think?"

"Not really, you're shaking a little bit," joked Caitlin.

Dean shrugged again and smiled. He was quite surprised that he and Caitlin were talking like this; it didn't seem like their second meeting at all. It was like they had known each other for years. _Maybe it's just me. Man, I really need to find some friends who're guys._

"So, Peter brought you here?" Dean asked as he sat down on the concrete pavement with his back against the building's wall.

Caitlin nodded and sat down next to him, "About a month ago now. We were in this warehouse in Montreal when he brought us here. We got separated when a hasmat team found us wandering New York. I didn't see him for a while after that; I thought they had taken him somewhere. Then when I was about to be deported; he was on the other side of a fence, about to be taken somewhere. Some guys grabbed me and were dragging me towards the plane. I heard Peter call my name and then he just disappeared."

Dean was suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable again as Caitlin started to break down again, _Oh crap, what the hell am I meant to do? Do I put an arm around her? She didn't mind it the last time—or it might just freak her out. Or should I just do nothing and let her calm herself down? But that might be insensitive. Damn, this really is a slippery slope._

"So, you're from my time then," stated Dean. "I think I know why I ended up here instead of where I wanted to go."

He looked up at the sky, his mind racing as he tried to find holes in his almost impossible theory. Caitlin didn't belong in this time and she lacked the means to get back. _Space/Time Continuum, _he thought savagely. _You really are one giant pain in the ass!_

"You don't belong here, Caitlin," he said, ignoring her questioning look. "The Space/Time Continuum thing was just waiting for the chance for some fool to screw up so it could drag that fool here to you. I'd think that people like Hiro Nakamura and Peter have enough control so that the Continuum can't haul their asses here. But it was my first time teleporting, so—"

"So you're the fool that's been dragged against his will to rescue me." Caitlin finished.

"Bingo," grinned Dean. "Though I'm not much of a rescuer; I'm new to the whole teleporting thing. If I try, we could end up in the middle of the ocean somewhere."

"But you weren't afraid to try when it was just you?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Not really. I can take care of myself." He paused and turned his head to look at Caitlin. "You know, between you and me, I'm kinda relieved that I didn't actually end up where I wanted to go. I was gonna do a bad thing for the greater good. But I don't think it would have been worth it in the end."

"What were you gonna do?"

"Yeah, that's personal." They weren't close enough yet for Dean to tell her personal things about his life. He thought Caitlin must have felt the same way by her unconcerned shrug.

"Well, you don't have to worry about me," Caitlin said, standing up and looking down at him. Dean could easily recognise the hope in her voice. "I can take care of myself too. Anyway, I'd rather be dead then stay in this hell any longer."

Dean grinned and stood up, "Well, I really hope you can swim, because I've gotta feeling that we'll end up in the middle of the Atlantic."

He placed his hand on Caitlin's shoulder again, screwing his eyes shut in concentration. _Okay, Space/Time Continuum, I'll take away everything bad I've ever said about you as long as you just take us where we wanna go._

Dean's eyes snapped open as the pair of large double doors were pushed open and a squad of men in hazmat suits raced out of the quarantined building. Dean started and jumped back, all of his Company trained instincts immediately kicking in.

"There they are!" One of the men said, his voice muffled slightly by the hazmat suit.

Dean heard Caitlin scream as one of the men grabbed her, wildly asking if she had any symptoms yet. Everything began to feel so far off and distance. He felt that now all too familiar feeling of being sucked through an enormous plughole.

He blinked as everything around him changed. He knew he was still in the same time and place; the bleak sky and environment immediately proved that. It felt like he was a lot higher up then before.

He looked down as Caitlin's screams and the men's shouts reached his ears. His feet slipped against the smooth metal of the quarantine building's roof as he realised where he had accidentally teleported himself to.

He sat down on top of the roof to steady himself and watched as the men dragged a kicking and screaming Caitlin inside the building. Several of the other men started to scour around the plateau, obviously looking for him.

_Nobody ever thinks to look up,_ Dean thought casually, instantly turning regretful as his mind flashed to Caitlin. _Crap, poor Caitlin. She probably thinks that I left her like Peter left her. I don't even want to imagine what she's feeling—and she has the virus, that's gotta be another blow for her._

Dean sighed and wobbled slightly as he stood up. _Don't worry though Caitlin, I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress._ He paused as one of the men suddenly looked up and pointed at Dean, yelling orders at the other men. _Whoops, time to go._

He scrambled awkwardly up the roof, the old saying: one step forward, two steps back flooding through his mind. "You know Time/Space Continuum," Dean muttered derisively at the sky. "I'm not taking back anything I said; you're still one giant pain in the ass."

His hands grasped the tip off the roof, holding on as he let his feet hang heavily against the metal. He had heard that roofs were generally built pointy and high in Ireland to stop the snow from piling up; but this was too much. "You couldn't have put me on a freaking flatter surface—great, now I'm talking to the freaking Time/Space Continuum. I can't wait to get the hell out of here so I can get rid of this ability. I'm never teleporting again after this, do you here me?!"

Dean sighed and easily pulled himself over the tip of the roof. He resisted the temptation to switch his abilities; he wasn't entirely sure that the Hiro's would stick; not after Meredith Gordon's one pulling a disappearing act. And he really didn't want to be stuck here for the rest of his life.

"I'm so glad no one can hear me right now. Being called a few fries short of a happy meal would be the nicest thing they'd have to say to me."

Dean swore as his feet lost their hold against the metal roof tiles, making him slide down the other side of the roof. He looked up at the sky again and said with the full knowledge that he'd have to move again: "You're a giant pain in the ass!"


	3. Chapter 3: Beneath the Surface

Claire slumped down on the living room sofa and took another bite of her second waffle of the morning. The past couple of days had been hard on the entire family. After her dad's seemingly miraculous reappearance yesterday and his sudden departure; not a single word had been spoken between them for the rest of that afternoon.

Though this morning Sandra had tried to pretend that everything was okay and normal; the first thing she had done was announce that they weren't moving from Costa Verde. Noah had told them that he'd made a deal to keep them all safe so she didn't see a reason to pack up and move again; she still trusted Noah, despite everything that had happened.

The second thing she had done was make waffles for breakfast.

She glanced at one of the packed Primatech boxes filled with information on the people like her. She hadn't bothered to unpack any of the information since yesterday; she hadn't even bothered to take some of the boxes out of the family car. She knew that the box she had dropped when Noah walked in was still lying where she had dropped it.

She pulled her cell-phone over to her from the other side of the sofa and flipped it open. West had been hounding her with text messages, trying to get her to talk to him. She sighed again with the irony of it. It had only been a few days ago when their positions were reversed and she had been constantly hounding him.

She frowned as her phone started to vibrate in her hands. She stared down at West's latest attempt to gain her attention. She sighed once more and quickly typed a reply to West before tossing her phone on the other side of the sofa. She'd deal with him tomorrow, along with everything else.

The morning news had been switched on, as was customary every morning. Claire had never paid any real attention to it before. Only when something of real interest to her appeared did she ignore her own problems. Now wasn't one of those times.

She settled comfortably back on the sofa and reached out a hand to pat Mr. Muggles' fluffy head. The dog always seemed to run to her when she had waffles.

Claire looked back at the T.V. watching the morning news' opening flash by. She didn't pay attention to the newsreader, the man's clear voice passing right over her head. It was only when Nathan Petrelli's picture appeared on the screen she sat up and listened with full attention.

It had been weeks since she had last spoken to her biological father. She didn't expect to hear from him again. She especially didn't expect to see him in the news. She listened in growing horror as the reporter spoke:

"—formerly elected congressman Nathan Petrelli was shot by an unknown assassin. Authorities are attempting to locate the suspect, who disappeared moments after the shooting. Petrelli was taken to Odessa Hospital and his condition is currently unknown…"

Claire felt tears begin to form in her already red-rimmed eyes. First Noah and now Nathan, it was too much for Claire to hold back.

She dropped the plate holding her waffle and buried her head in her arms, trying to muffle her sobs so her Mom and Lyle wouldn't hear her cry, they had been trying so hard to move forward, it wasn't worth it for them to see her cry again.

Her plate hit the carpet with a soft thud, her half finished waffle slipping off the plate.

Mr. Muggles looked between Claire and the abandoned waffle before jumping lightly off the sofa and settling down to finish Claire's breakfast.

* * *

Peter paced around Odessa Hospital's waiting room, occasionally stopping to stare at the wall-mounted clock, watching the hands tick away without pause. Nathan had been brought here from the Police Station, he was lucky that the Hospital wasn't too far away or Nathan wouldn't have made it in time.

He knew from his training as a nurse that Nathan's gunshots were almost certainly fatal; it didn't matter how quickly he had arrived the hospital, or how quickly he had been taken into surgery.

It had been over seven hours since Nathan had been taken into surgery. One of the surgeon's would come out hourly and give him and Matt updates. The last one had been to tell them that there had been another complication. Each and every time the surgeon told them that, all Peter wanted to do was rush in there and be with his brother.

"Would you stop pacing?" Matt asked from his seat in the waiting room. "I know you're worried, but you're making everyone more anxious then they should be."

Peter paused and glanced around the waiting room, only noticing then that several people were watching him uneasily. "I'm worried, okay," he told Matt. "He's my brother."

"He'll pull through. He only got shot twice. I had four bullets inside me and I recovered fine."

Peter nodded and carried on his pacing. Matt had made him feel a bit better about all of this. He was right, if he could pull through with four bullets, Nathan would be able to pull through with only two. Peter glanced at Matt, telepathically sending words towards him. He didn't want anyone knowing what they were saying. Peter was sure that one of the women on the other side of the waiting room was hanging onto their every word.

_You saw the bastard__ who did this?_

Matt shook his head and replied in the same manner. _Not his face, I couldn't make it out. He was wearing a cap. But whoever it was, he didn't want Nathan revealing to the world what we can do._

_If Nathan dies, they'll have to kill me too. I swear the first thing I'll do is find the bastard and drop him off the Empire State Building in front of everyone!_ Peter responded angrily. _I might do it if Nathan survives too!_

Matt shrugged. _I don't think you will. There has to be a reason why Nathan was shot—aside from the obvious ones._

_You mean because the rest of the world would drop the collective brick?_ Peter asked, pausing in mid-step to glare at Matt.

Matt shrugged again, _Pretty much._

_You're wrong, you know. Things won't happen the way you think they will._

"Of course they will!" Matt yelled; Peter's irritating naivety finally making his tightly kept emotions burst out. "Why do you think Nathan's—?" Matt cut off as he glanced quickly around the waiting room.

Peter followed Matt's gaze. Almost all of the waiting room's occupants were looking at Matt; most of them wore angry expressions on their faces. Peter cocked his head slightly as he saw a pretty, dark-haired woman watching them curiously. Peter had noticed her when they first arrived seven hours ago. She had been sitting in that same spot, reading Chandra Suresh's Activating Evolution book, seemingly engrossed with its content. Peter didn't recall seeing her move the entire time he'd been here.

Peter frowned and reached out with his mind, dipping into the woman's thoughts. _So, that's Petrelli, huh? Bob better not find out that I forgot to keep tabs. This book is interesting though, an empath's DNA might—I need to come up with a better name for an empath. They're not really empaths in the sense of the word. Here that, Petrelli? I don't care how much you try to read my mind. You're not going to get anything interesting. I don't know who shot Nathan. Though maybe if you're lucky, we'll help you find out who did._

Peter's eyebrows rose as the woman winked at him and turned her attention back to her book. He tried to probe her mind again but all he got were the words of her book. The Spontaneous Regeneration section if he remembered correctly. He frowned as he felt Matt's mind connect back to his. _What now?_ Peter thought angrily.

_Nathan's here because of what he planned to do, Pete__. It—_

_Don't call me Pete, only Nathan can call me that! _Peter mentally snapped.

_Listen, Peter. _Matt snapped back. _I know you're hurting, I know you're worried, but you've gotta stop taking it out on other people. This is not my fault and it's not your fault, got that?_

Peter glared at Matt, struggling to control his emotions. Peter sucked in a deep breath and all of the worry in his body seemed to disappear. He gasped at the sudden change, his angry expression turning into a slight smile as peace washed over him.

"You okay?" Matt asked, immediately noticing the change in Peter's expression.

"Yeah, I guess so." Peter replied in wonderment. He noticed the corners of the dark-haired woman's lips curl slightly, but when he tried to probe her mind again, all he got were words from her book. "I feel good. Better than I have in a long time."

Matt frowned and regarded Peter curiously. "You sure?"

Peter's head jerked around to the entrance of the waiting room. The same surgeon appeared through the doors, walking towards Peter and Matt with an apologetic expression on his face.

"Mr. Petrelli, Officer Parkman." The surgeon said as he closed the distance between them, speaking in a low voice to make sure they weren't overheard. "The surgery was successful, we managed to remove the bullets and repair most of the damage. But Nathan crashed and for a while we thought we'd lost him. He was out for a time; the lack of oxygen may have caused damage to Nathan's brain. We won't know for sure until he wakes up—if he wakes up at all. I'm sorry, Mr. Petrelli."

Peter's heart sunk at the surgeon's words. "My brother could still die?"

The surgeon nodded sadly. "Yes, though there is a chance he could wake up and be perfectly fine. He's in God's hands now."

Peter nodded and put on a small smile. Despite the bad news, his spirits were uplifted. His brother was alive, nothing else mattered now. "Can I see him?"

The surgeon nodded, "Only for a moment. Come on, I'll show you to his room."

Peter nodded and followed the surgeon out of the waiting room. As he walked by, he glanced at the dark-haired woman who was watching him curiously. Peter reached out with his mind and her thoughts filled her head.

_Well I'll be damned. Petrelli actually survived. Oh and Peter, don't be too down in the dumps when you leave this room. Remember your brothers gonna be fine. We're gonna make sure of that._ The woman winked at Peter again and turned her attention back to her book.

Peter stared at her before following the surgeon through the set of double doors. He gasped as some of his happiness suddenly vanished. It wasn't like his good mood went south; it just wasn't as north as it was before.

Peter frowned and continued to follow the surgeon. That woman would have to wait. His brother was the only person that mattered now.

* * *

Lily flipped over the next page of her Activating Evolution book, reading the first few sentences with only half the enthusiasm she had displayed before. After a moment she gave up trying to read the cramped words and stared lazily up at the ceiling tiles. She felt a little uneasy about Peter absorbing her gift; his emotions could very well influence everyone else's. He probably wouldn't even realise he was the person doing it. So she had to keep an eye on him in more ways then one.

She sighed and closed her eyes. She considered standing up and stretching her aching legs. Peter wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon and she was sick of being cooped up in this chair. Everyone was lucky she had her book or their emotions would be all over the place. She didn't usually toy with other people's feelings; but a girl could only stay put for so long.

She's get what she needed soon enough and hopefully be back to Hartsdale soon. Just a little push one way and Peter would be putty in The Company's hands.

Lily grinned in anticipation and turned her attention back to her book.

* * *

Elle pulled her car's door open and scrambled into the front passenger's seat. It was hard for her to drive with one arm; it usually took a little while for her to sort out everything she needed to do before taking off. She understood their need to get away quickly. Sylar was still out their and most likely had already recovered his powers.

She turned her head to watch as Molly and Maya climbed quickly into the back of the car._ "Both of them would be useless in a fight."_ Elle found herself thinking. She glanced at Mohinder. _"Make that all three." _She knew that if Sylar did find them, it would be up her to hold the serial killer off. Mohinder couldn't do anything that would help them out. He had gotten in a lucky shot with Bennet back in Costa Verde. The two girls would be even worse. Molly was only a ten year old people finder. And Maya looked like she was still surprised to be alive.

Elle hoped they would get away before Sylar came looking though. Even though she was itching for another crack at him; she knew that the chance of succeeding against him now that he had abilities back was slim at best—especially considering she had a sling on her arm.

She attempted to scratch her itching gunshot as she watched Mohinder insert the key into the car's ignition. Elle leant back in her seat as Mohinder slammed his foot down on the accelerator. He understood the need to get away as much as Elle did—if not more.

The car lurched forward, picking up speed every metre. Elle glanced at Mohinder again. She supposed it wasn't all bad letting him drive. He used to drive a cab before all this business started. He was bound to know a few shortcuts that would get them to Hartsdale quickly.

"Oh, I have something for you." Mohinder said suddenly, glancing sideways at Elle as he drove.

"Is this really the right time?" Elle replied in an annoyed tone. She tried to act disinterested, but her insides had begun to twist with excitement as soon as Mohinder finished his sentence. She always loved receiving presents and being given one out-of-the-blue was the most exciting of all.

"I think you'll want to see what it is now." Mohinder smiled. "Molly, can you pass Elle my bag?"

Elle frowned at Mohinder and turned to accept the bag from Molly's outstretched hand. She peered inside, her free hand awkwardly searching through the bag's contents. There wasn't much inside, only paper's that grew steady wetter as Elle's dripping wet hand and hair leaked water into the bag. There was a Company laptop too. Elle frowned at the computer and looked up at Mohinder. "How did Sylar find out about the cure?" She asked, forgetting completely about the gift Mohinder was going to give her.

"…He looked at the laptop, and saw Claire Bennet's file." Mohinder said after a moment's hesitation.

"He was playing around with a Company computer?" Elle said quickly. "So he'll be able to find us at Hartsdale? So he knows things about us like information on our agents and facilities?"

"I… I don't know." Mohinder replied. It was clear he had only just thought about that know. He had been too worried about Molly, and making sure that Sylar didn't kill anyone. "I didn't have the files on all your agents, most of it was just data on the virus."

Elle was cut off from replying as the car jerked violently; its bumper and entire hood crumbling like tinfoil as the car seemed to collide head on with an invisible wall. The car froze, going from forty to zero in a barely a second. Elle screamed as the momentum of the crash sent her flying through the windscreen in a shower of blood and glass.

The car seemed to groan as its entire body was lifted and flipped over. Orange sparks danced out from under the roof as the car skidded upside-down across the concrete. Petrified screams could be heard from inside the crumbled heap.

Elle hit the ground heavily; the force of her expulsion from the car causing her to roll over on the street, leaving a trail of blood across the concrete. Her entire body was numb; she couldn't feel a single limb. Her vision blurred as blood trickled into her eyes, blinding her from the scene of horror.

Elle closed her eyes and her entire world went black.


	4. Chapter 4: Collision

_Sylar, Manhattan._

Sylar leant against the rough brick wall of an alleyway's entrance, watching the streams of busy Manhattan traffic move slowly by. He knew that they'd come by here eventually, Mohinder wouldn't risk staying at the loft for to long. _I guess it's a lab now._ Sylar thought indifferently. It didn't really matter which, nobody would be going back there for a long time. And judging by the small explosions he had picked up, all the information there was destroyed.

Mohinder and the others would be coming past here soon; that much Sylar knew for certain. They all had something he wanted. Molly, Maya and that blonde all had abilities he craved. And Mohinder had information Sylar was determined to rip from the man's head. Somebody had taken away his abilities and now that he had them back; that somebody was going to pay in full.

Sylar cocked his head as he listened out for the four voices. His ear's pulsed with pain as the roar of cars and shouts echoed through his head. He ignored the piercing aches in his ears and close his eyes, attempting to filter through the insignificant sounds and focus on the one's he wanted.

A malicious grin appeared on his face when broken pieces of Mohinder's voice reached his ears. "Molly…Elle my bag…"

They were close now, heading just where he'd thought they would. A couple of minutes at the most, give or take.

"Where did you get this?" It was the blonde woman's voice this time—Elle; his main target in this ambush. He wanted her ability just as much as he desired Molly's. But he wanted revenge on Elle for his little tumble out the window. Molly could wait. They all could wait until the blonde's blue lightning was held in his hands.

Sylar folded his arms and breathed out in anticipation. They were getting closer now. He could hear their ongoing conversation easily above the intelligible sounds around him. He was pleased that he could still filter the sounds around his and latch onto specific things. He had no desire to go through those headaches again.

He perked up when he saw Mohinder's car turn through the traffic and speed down a separate street. _Now, now, Mohinder,_ Sylar frowned, _Just where are you going?_

Sylar pushed himself off of the wall and almost lazily raised his hand. He waited for a moment. He wanted them to get a little bit further away, the less people who could see them, the better.

Sylar grinned and clenched his fist. The car froze, instantly stopping as it hit Sylar's telekinetic wall. The windscreen shattered as one of the car's passengers was thrown through the safety glass and deep into the side-street.

He lifted his arm higher into the air. His right eye twitched as he telekinetically flipped the car over onto its roof. The cab skidded across the concrete in a shower of orange sparks, colliding against the side of a building before coming to a rest on a mangle of shattered concrete and metal.

Sylar winced slightly as the effort required to lift the cab made his head ache painfully. Claire's miraculous blood was still working its magic throughout his body. His external wounds had healed, but he got the feeling that it would take a fair amount of time before his ill-used abilities regained their previous strength.

He examined the scene for a moment, considering his options with an unbroken, ticking mind. He could immediately tell through his enhanced hearing that all four of the car's occupants were still alive—though at his distance he couldn't tell who each person was. The woman who had been thrown out through the windshield was breathing shallowly, each breath becoming more laboured. Whoever that was, she didn't have long left.

He grinned and stepped forward, making his way towards the crash site. He had chosen his first victim. It was important he got to her before her injuries prevented him from obtaining what he wanted.

Traffic was starting to slow down, people were beginning to stop and stare in complete astonishment; in their eyes the car had hit solid air. A good few had cell-phones out and talking to emergency operators. No one would question Sylar walking towards the crash; everyone would just assume that he was going to help.

Sylar almost chuckled. In a way, he was going to help—just not in the way anyone would think.

* * *

_Mohinder Suresh, Manhattan._

Mohinder groaned and tried to raise a hand to his pounding head. Black spots impaired his vision; caused by a long, bruising gash across his forehead. As soon as his fingers tenderly touched the cut his head exploded with pain. Mohinder cried out and removed his hand. He couldn't remember what happened; he must have hit the steering wheel during the crash…

Crash? That's right, that's what happened. It was all a blur, everything had happened to quickly to process. He recalled fleeing from his laboratory. He had passed along Dean's necklace to Elle. And now he was here and everything in-between was blank. He knew that the car had flipped; there was no other way he could explain his contorted position and why things seemed sideways.

He groaned again and tried to relieve the tightening pressure on his abdomen. His seatbelt was cutting into his flesh, restricting his movements. It had undoubtedly saved his life. He looked blankly at the shattered windscreen and the empty passenger's seat beside him. He could have been thrown through the windshield just like Elle…

Mohinder's eyes widened as his mind drove past the fuzziness and pain and accessed swift realisation. "Elle!" Mohinder cried out, wincing as his shout brought a fresh rush of pain into his forehead.

Mohinder reached down and attempted to unbuckle his tightened seatbelt. He frowned and tugged at the belt when it refused to unclasp. He felt the slow and consuming rise of panic begin to build in his stomach.

"Dr. Suresh?" Maya's voice cracked from behind him in the backseat, quickly followed by a loud groan of pain.

"Maya," Mohinder said as he struggled to look over his shoulder towards Maya. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so." Maya replied shakily. "I don't think anything's—oh, no! Molly!"

Mohinder struggled violently to turn around at the panic and fear in Maya's voice. He ignored the blinding pain in his head and the rush of dizziness made by his sudden, violent movement. "Molly!" He called out as his eyes finally fell on the girl.

Molly was slumped against the crumpled car-door, he seatbelt holding her securely in her seat. A large spider web of cracks decorated the side window where Molly's skull had collided against it. The collision had knocked her out-cold. Mohinder's heart skipped a beat when he noticed the small trickle of blood seeping from the side of her head.

"Molly!" Mohinder called out again. The little girl didn't answer, didn't give a single sign that she had heard Mohinder's cry; she remained still, limp and lifeless.

All thoughts of Elle, Maya, even his own well-being instantly left Mohinder's mind, all he saw was his unconscious and injured daughter. He struggled against his seatbelt, slamming his thumb into the release button desperately. He gasped as the tight, painful pressure against his abdomen gave way.

Mohinder slumped, breathing heavily at his sudden release. His stomach ached, each drawn breath and every tiny movement sending quick stabs of pain into his body. He widened his eyes, trying to clear the black spots from his vision. He blinked as his eyes slid in and out of focus. If it wasn't for the knowledge that Molly was out-cold in the back seat; he would have closed his eyes and let blissful unconsciousness take the pain away.

He struggled to sit up, trying to ignore the crippling pain that flooded through his body. He groaned and resisted the urge to hold his head in his hands. The pain had intensified greatly, almost causing Mohinder the pass out. He reached forward, seeking the door handle with spastic fingers. Some part of his brain nagged at him, trying to push through the pain and tell him that there was no way the door would open—not with the cab in its destroyed state.

Mohinder grunted and twisted around in his seat. He drew back his leg, wincing as the movement sent more ripples of pain flooding through his body. Mohinder squeezed his eyes shut and lashed out with his foot. Sliver's of glass fell from the driver's side window as cracks formed like spider webs on the panel.

He kicked out again. This time his foot impacted through the glass, shattering the pane as his foot plunged through. He gasped as shards of glass ripped through his pant's leg and left several bleeding scratches along his ankle. He nudged away the remaining shards of glass and withdrew his foot.

He groaned as he moved his aching body out through the broken window, wincing as the broken glass dug cruelly into his flesh. He didn't stop to catch his breath or dislodge the slivers of glass from his palms, instead staggering to his feet and moving in a faltering run towards Molly's side of the cab. Deafening noises filled his ears and each step he took made his head throb painfully. He was dimly aware of shouts of caution and screams coming from the mouth of the side-street.

He fell heavily to his knees when he reached Molly's side of the car. The car door and window looked like they had barely felt the brunt of the crash; aside from cracks in the glass and slightly crumpled exterior, the door looked intact.

Mohinder reached out and wrenched the door open, moving quickly to catch Molly's slumping body as the sudden loss of the door caused her to fall sideways. Mohinder breathed out and held her head steady. "Its okay, Molly," Mohinder muttered into Molly's hair, "you're gonna be fine."

He pressed his fingers against Molly's neck, sighing in relief when he felt her weak, but steady pulse. He didn't dare risk moving her. He didn't want to cause any more damage than what had already been done. He recalled hearing somewhere that moving a crash victim could do more harm than good. He didn't know exactly where or even when he had heard that, but he didn't want to take any chances with Molly.

He glanced around the side-street, examining it intently for the first time since the crash. Several cars had stopped at the mouth of the street. Mohinder could barely make out the vehicles forms, his vision shifted in and out of focus so frequently it made him feel like vomiting. That accompanied with his dizzying head wound and other abrasions was making his actions slow and uncoordinated

He could see someone approaching them from the main street. Mohinder couldn't make out who the person was, but he immediately knew that he wasn't heading towards the overturned car.

Mohinder moved his eyes to follow the man's path. He had forgotten about both Elle and Maya in his rush to get the Molly. Maya had somehow managed to escape from the cab and was sitting back against the cab, holding her head in her hands. She was clearly in shock, but the crash hadn't seemed to cause her any serious damage. She was banged up and bruised, but that seemed to be the extent of her injuries.

Mohinder blinked repeatedly and looked past the cab and further down the street. He immediately spotted Elle's seemingly lifeless body, sprawled across the concrete street like a broken doll. A trail of smeared blood marked where her momentum had caused her to roll after hitting the ground. She wasn't too far away from the cab; Mohinder vaguely remembered the cab skidding further down the street. He could see Elle's bloodstained face from his position near Molly. There was a long gash just below Elle's hairline where she had impacted against the cab's windshield. It wasn't as impressive as Mohinder's own cut, but it was still sizeable in its own right.

Mohinder gasped as a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to release Molly and turn around.

"Hey, hey, calm down." The man ordered as Mohinder began to struggle against his grasp. "I'm a doctor at the Roosevelt. You have to stay still, your heads taken a nasty knock."

The doctor carefully cupped Mohinder's head in his hands and peered into his eyes. "You're concussed," the doctor said, "can you say the word 'retrieval' for me?"

Mohinder groaned managed to stutter the first two syllables before falling silent. The doctor frowned and attempted to smooth back Mohinder's hair so he could inspect the gash on Mohinder's forehead. "Damn, that's gonna leave a mark," he said with fake cheerfulness and a loud whistle. Mohinder could easily hear the concern in the doctor's voice. "An ambulance is on its way. You're gonna be alright."

Mohinder groaned again and managed to wave his hand vaguely in the direction of Elle's body. Everything was getting slower, groggier. His memories of the crash were fading, disappearing from his tired mind. "Help…help her." Mohinder muttered, pointing at Elle's body with renewed vigour.

The doctor glanced towards where Mohinder was pointing and swore. Judging by the doctor's tone, Elle's injuries must have been direr then Mohinder had thought them to be. Mohinder slumped back against the car as he felt the doctor leave his side and rush towards Elle. Mohinder could hear the doctor speaking to himself as he began to inspect Elle; all of the cheerfulness was gone from his voice and had been replaced by worry and determination.

Mohinder turned his head and tried to see past the bright lights and haziness that obscured his vision. He knew that he couldn't fall asleep, that same part of his brain that had told him the car door wouldn't open was telling him that he had to stay awake, no matter how tired he was. He stretched his eyes wide and tried to find something or someone to focus on.

His gaze turned back to the mouth of the side-street. He frowned as someone separated himself from the gathering crowd and began to stride purposely towards the doctor and Elle. His brain nagged at him, he knew that person; he recognised his confident walk and figure. Mohinder chuckled, each spasm of laughter bringing fresh waves of pain into his head. His mind was telling him that amusement was the wrong emotion but of all the times Sylar could show his face, it had to be now.

Mohinder slumped heavily against the car, his legs barely able to support his weight. Even with his slowed thought process, he knew what Sylar wanted. It was blaringly obvious from the moment he had recognised the serial killer. Elle was helpless to defend herself and the doctor could hope to stand against Sylar. Mohinder tried to force his body to move. His initial rush of adrenaline had burnt out, leaving him weak and tired. All he needed to do was slow Sylar down; hopefully by then that ambulance the doctor said was coming would arrive. He could hear sirens in the distance, but unless someone got in Sylar's way, they'd be too late.

He paused, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw Maya stand up and step in between Sylar and his destination. Determination mixed with anger was clearly present in her expression.

"Get out of my way, Maya." Sylar said, slowing to a stop and facing the obstacle in his path. "You can wait your turn."

"I'm not going to let you hurt her, Gabriel." Maya said angrily, her body shook as she struggled to control the rising blackness in her body.

"I'm not Gabriel anymore," Sylar stated, clenching his fist until it began to freeze over with ice. "My name is Sylar! Now get out of my way!"

"No!" Maya shouted, stepping back until she was directly in front of Elle and the doctor. Her irises had faded from their soft brown into complete blackness. Her ability was close to consuming her and everyone around her.

"You're gonna kill me Maya?" Sylar mocked. "Not without killing everyone else. Now get out of my way or you'll end up like your brother!"

It was that last comment that pushed Maya over the top. Her grief had been tightly stopped with her newfound hatred towards that man who had used her then betrayed her. Her grief and anger erupted to the surface in a tide of blackness. Maya gasped as her eyes turned black, tears began to fall down her cheeks as her ability tore itself out from her control.

Mohinder felt his throat begin to close up, restricting his breathing and causing him to wheeze painfully. He could feel black tears begin to run down his cheeks. All around him, people started falling. The crowd at the mouth of the street began to scream as the symptoms of Maya's sickness began to spread, causing people to collapse and clutch their faces.

Mohinder felt his legs give way, Maya's sickness sapping away the last of his strength. He heard someone shout a name, the scream quickly being followed by a soft thud on the street close to the car. Out of the corner of his eye, Mohinder could see the body of a dark-haired man. Blood slowly leaked from a small cut on the man's head, mixing with the black tears of the sickness.

Mohinder closed his eyes, unable to muster the strength to keep them open. He breathed out as the sickness dragged him into unconsciousness.

* * *

_Unknown, Manhattan._

The man sat on the edge of the rooftop and watched the scene of the crash below with complete amusement. He had missed things like this; it had been so long since he had been able to do whatever he wanted without someone holding the leash around his neck. He wasn't a prisoner anymore. The very thought sent excited chills down his spine.

His life over the past five years had been full of routines and procedures. At seven every morning he was required to down several power suppressant pills and then again twelve hours later along with his dinner. At nine he was given a meagre breakfast, then later at ten he was marched towards the testing rooms where he was poked and prodded and studied. Sometimes he was allowed outside, but on those occasions, he was so drugged up on extra pills he could barely put one foot in front of the other. That was his life and he would rather step in front of a bus than go back to that hell.

He glanced sideways at his dark-haired brother. He had rescued him from the fourth level of Primatech's basement; a place where the only lights came from the flickering wall panels. They hadn't even bothered to drug him; they didn't need to. His brother had told him that they gave him two meals a day and experimented on him in the time between breakfast and dinner--in reality, it meant he was tortured.

The man turned his attention back towards the side-street. A grin slowly spread across his face when he noticed someone push his way though the crowd and walk towards the crash. "Hey," the man said, tapping his brother's leg with the back of his hand. "There he is. You ready?"

"Always," his brother cracked his fingers in anticipation, white light flaring between his palms with each gesture. It had been five years since either of them had been in a fight. They were both looking forward to reconnect with the experience. "Just remember, we're only here to stop Sylar from gaining another power. We can't kill him or cause any serious injury. _She_ wants to handle him herself."

"Well, I trust you can control yourself. I really don't want to get on her bad side..." He paused and frowned when he noticed one of the car's occupants stand from her position on the ground and step between Sylar and the blonde lying motionless on the ground. "What the hell? Does she wanna get herself killed?"

He glanced up at his brother who was examining the confrontation below with calculating eyes. He blinked as his brother's soft blue eyes momentarily disappeared in a flash of white light. "I dunno," his brother shrugged, "Maybe she's trying to—" He cut off and gasped for breath, one hand clutching his throat.

The man's hands flew to his own neck as he felt his own throat begin to close over. He coughed as he struggled to draw air into his lungs. On the street below he could see the same reaction in the crowd that had gathered in the mouth of the street. People were dropping like flies, each person seemingly displaying the same symptoms.

He raised one of his hands, pulling it back curiously as he felt a dense liquid touch his fingers. "What…the…?" He rasped, as his eyes fell on the black fluid covering his fingertips. He slumped backwards, falling backwards onto the rough concrete of the buildings rooftop.

He struggled to sit back up as a thought suddenly blossomed in his mind. He immediately spotted his brother wobbling precariously on the edge of the building. He could see the black fluid running down his brother's face, featuring prominently against his pale skin.

He scrambled forward as his friend began to fall, dropping over the side of the building in a matter of seconds. Time didn't seem to slow; there was no slow motion falling. He just fell.

The man reached over the ledge of the building, reaching out desperately for his own ability; something was blocking it, holding him back from unleashing its full strength.

His fingers flexed as his ability trickled into action. It wasn't working fast enough.

"Owen!"

* * *

Sylar instantly began to wonder if he had finally pushed Maya too far. She was worked into a frenzy, all grief and anger and hatred. But behind those emotions, Sylar could sense another feeling, one that held all the others together. Sylar had this nagging feeling that he had seen it once before, a long time ago. It took him a moment, but Sylar finally remembered where he had seen it before: He had seen it in Peter Petrelli when the man placed himself between him and Claire back at that high school in Texas and once again when Peter had confronted him at Kirby Plaza. A sense of purpose that could only be described as destiny. 

He gasped as the now all too familiar sensation of Maya's virus-like ability began to consume him. "Stop it, Maya!" He shouted. "You're going to kill everyone!"

He watched as Maya sucked in a deep breath and took a step forward. She wasn't even trying to stop the illness, realised Sylar. She was forcing it out, focusing all of her hatred and rage and making it her strength.

Sylar sank to his knees. It wasn't meant to happen like this, he was the murderer, not this girl who always needed someone to hold her hand. Sylar's eyes widened as the black tears on Maya's cheeks disappeared, drying up and leaving her skin unblemished. Her eyes, however, remained the same, still two gleaming pools of liquid blackness.

All around him he could hear people recovering from the illness' effects. The doctor who had been tending to Elle was staring around in shock, the black tears disappearing from his face.

For the first time in a long time, Sylar felt fear.

Maya was in control; her wild emotions had focused on him and were giving her the strength and resolve to control her ability.

Sylar looked around desperately for something to aid him, something to distract Maya and give him the chance to recover. He fell sideways as his strength was continually sapped by Maya's ability.

He flexed his fingers towards the broken shell of the car and twitched his digits weakly towards Maya.

A loose metal piece from the car's body tore itself from the rest of the car and soared violently towards Maya. The piece of metal struck Maya across the temple, instantly causing the woman to crumple to the ground.

Sylar breathed heavily as the sudden illness caused by Maya's ability began to dissipate. He staggered to his feet, his heart pumping adrenaline furiously about his body. He glared down angrily at Maya; she had ruined everything with her interference. He could hear the approaching ambulance sirens vividly; it wouldn't take much longer for them to get here.

Sylar snarled and telekinetically lifted Maya's unconscious body. She was the consolation prize, nothing more. He was running on borrowed time. He didn't expect anyone to follow him. The only person present who was even remotely capable of stopping him was dying on the street. Sylar shook his head at the waste of her ability. He could hear Elle heart beating weakly in her chest, unless that ambulance arrived in the next couple of minutes, the electrically charged girl would be a goner.

Sylar dragged Maya's unconscious body further down the side-street and turned into a deserted alleyway. It was one good thing about New York, Sylar mused. There was never any shortage of dark alleys that you could creep around in. He turned and looked back down towards the crash scene. Nobody was pursuing him down the street; it didn't even look like anyone had noticed he had gone. They were all still dealing with the after-effects of Maya's ability.

He grimaced and flung Maya roughly to the side, pinning her against the wall with his telekinesis. He felt excitement rise in his body, the last time he had done this; it had been a long and overly careful procedure. Telekinesis made everything easier and quicker. He grinned and raised a finger towards Maya's forehead.

He paused, savouring the moment; he was going to enjoy this.

Footsteps reached his sensitive ears—running footsteps. Sylar swore and turned towards the mouth of the alleyway. He raised his hand, smiling as cool frost began to cover his fist. He flexed his fingers; ice streamed out of his palm, covering the distance towards the alley's mouth just as the person burst around the corner.

Sylar watched in satisfaction as the man stumbled back in surprise, his hands rising in a protective gesture. Sylar felt like laughing; the motion wouldn't have done any good. The alley was about to gain a new ice sculpture.

Sylar's eyes widened as hot, white light flashed from the man's hands, instantly melting the ice as it streamed out of Sylar's hands. Sylar released his hold on Maya's body and turned his full attention towards the newcomer. This one looked like he'd be able to put up a fight.

A small gash was bleeding freely down the side of the man's face, standing out prominently against his pale skin. Sylar watched curiously as the man's eyes faded from flashing white to a soft blue.

Sylar flung out his hand, telekinetically grabbing any object his sight. He frowned in confusion as the entire world seemed to speed up around him, leaving him alone, moving at normal pace. After confusion came realisation: It wasn't the world that had speed up, it was him who had slowed down.

The man standing at the mouth of the alley smirked and began to walk forwards, covering the distance towards Maya quickly. Sylar craned his head trying to keep the man in his sights. Sylar howled in fury, he was moving too slowly, he couldn't even keep track of the man's movements.

His neck inched around until his eyes finally fell back on the man. He was kneeling over Maya's fallen body and had his fingers pressed against her neck. "She's alive." He announced up into the air.

Sylar's eyes slowly widened as another man dropped out of the sky, falling the last few metres at Sylar's own slow speed. "Good," the newcomer stated as his speed returned to normal, Sylar noticed that he kept his hand trained on his body.

_So he's the one who's doing this to me._ Sylar thought savagely. _He's going to pay for this!_

The newcomer had an air of confidence about him that only a person who had complete faith in his ability could achieve. Both of his attackers did, they both had this feeling in their bodies that Sylar could only describe of blood-lust. For the second time today, Sylar experienced the sensation of fear. These two could kill him here and probably without any serious effort.

"Remember, we're not here to kill." The man who had his hand trained on Sylar said. "Send him flying, but keep yourself in check."

The man with the cut nodded and grinned savagely. Sylar noticed that the man's hands began to gleam white.

"I've seen your faces." Sylar said. He was pleased to notice that the man couldn't control how fast the words came out of his mouth. "I'll hunt you down, I swear."

"Let's hope so," the speed-manipulator said, clenching his fist and releasing Sylar from his ability.

Sylar gasped as the sudden return to normal speed made him stumbled. He flung out a hand, seeking anything that he could fling at the two men. The man with the glowing hands stepped forward, placing his palms flat against Sylar's chest.

Sylar cried out as white heat burned through his body. The man's eyes flashed white and energy burst from his palms, sending Sylar flying back with the strength of the blast.

Sylar grinned as he soared back. Today hadn't gone as planned, but now he had two more faces to add to his ever-growing list. He mentally placed the speed-manipulator near the top. He already had raw power in the form of Ted Sprague's nuclear energy. The man with the glowing hands could wait. Sylar longed to find out how the speed-manipulator's ability worked; to find out how it ticked.

Sylar groaned as he collided with something near the back of the alleyway. He had his mission laid out in front of him, clearer than it had ever been before.

It was his evolutionary imperative.


	5. Chapter 5: Dancing to Strings

_Dean Matthews, Outside Quarantine 02, Dublin._

Heavy, weighted-down footsteps pounded against the pavement, signalling their approach. Dean swung around the corner of an abandoned building and pressed his back against its rough brick exterior. He ran his hand across his sweat-soaked forehead and tried to steady his harsh panting. These people just refused to give up, they wanted him captured and taken back, even if it meant perusing him outside the safety of the Quarantine and into the unkempt streets of Dublin.

Navigating the Quarantine had been a lot harder than he had thought it would be. Getting off the roof had been easy enough, but those tall, barb-wired fences still stood in his way. It didn't help that those men in the hazmat suits had sounded an alarm almost instantly. He couldn't even teleport away thanks to his ability freezing up—well at least Hiro's teleportation, he got the feeling that his newfound ability to recall old powers would still work; but there was no way he was going to risk switching—not after the mess with Meredith Gordon's pyrokinesis.

He took slow, quiet breaths as the pounding footsteps behind him slowed and eventually stopped. Dean slowly moved his head around the corner of the building and eyed his pursuers intently. There were three of them—he knew there had been at least nine at one point, as well as several hazmat trucks. Dean supposed the others had split up to cover more ground. He wasn't expecting the chase to continue for much longer, there was only so much oxygen those suits could provide for their wearers.

"Where the hell did he go?" One of the men asked as he bent down and rested his hands on his knees. It was obvious the man was panting in his suit. Dean let out a small, relieved smile. They were going to deplete their air faster if the panted.

"No idea." One of the other men stated. "Let's just go back and tell Weatherly that the guy got away."

Dean's smile widened as he withdrew his head back around the corner and rested it against the building exterior. He could perfectly hear the men arguing about what to do next. The only thing he had to do was wait for the three to leave—or start running like hell if he heard their footsteps approaching his position.

He half-turned, his eyes quickly analysing the street behind him for potential escape routes. He took a step forward, his eyes widening in disbelief. An abandoned hazmat truck blocked the exit out of the street. It looked like it had been their since the whole mess with the virus began, it fit in almost perfectly with the desolate city.

"No, no, no, no!" Dean hissed vehemently as he quietly strode towards the vehicle. "Of all the stupid places…"

He paused and tried to focus the hazmat team's voices. His heart was pumping furiously and adrenaline pulsed through his body. He just needed them to leave and he could regain at least some semblance of calm.

"Call in with HQ." One of the men was saying irritably. "Tell them that we're coming back, we've almost run out of air."

"Okay, okay," another man replied quickly. Dean recognised his voice as the one who had been urging them to continue searching. "Let's just check down there, he might be hiding."

Dean's heart skipped a beat then continued to pound in his chest. He tried to resist the nauseating waves of panic that steadily rose deep within his stomach. _It's not all so bad, _Dean tried to tell himself; _At least I'll be able to find out where they took her._ _Of course then I'll be trapped _and_ separated from her. _He knew fighting wasn't an option either; even though Dean was confident that if it came down to it he could handle the three; but eventually someone would come looking for them—especially since now they were radioing in.

He stiffened when he heard one of the men's footsteps clunk in his direction. "I'm just gonna check round here!" The man called back towards the others.

Dean swore under his breath, backing away towards the side of the abandoned hazmat vehicle and desperately tried to find a way to climb over it. He pulled against the half-broken door to the truck, wincing as it made a loud creaking noise.

"Hey, did you guys hear that?" The closest man asked.

"Hear what?" Another replied. Dean could barely hear his voice from his position by the truck. It didn't surprise him that the two men at the mouth of the street couldn't hear him.

"There was some kind of creaking noise."

"It was probably just the wind—or a rat. Who cares?" The man paused. "We're being ordered back, come on. I wanna get back preferably before we run out of air!"

Dean breathed an audible sigh of relief when the man's words reached his ears. He turned his attention back to the truck and carefully placed his foot on top of the tire.

"Just hold on!" The closest man yelled back to the others. "I just want to check this out. What if it's our guy? How are we gonna explain that to Weatherly?"

Dean looked over his shoulder, his mouth opening slightly in astonishment. What the hell was with this guy? He was getting the chance to go back and he wasn't taking it.

"The man will die if he's out there. I don't know about you, but I don't want that on my conscience." His footsteps continued towards the corner, each heavy, metallic footstep sending chills down Dean's spine. He didn't have time to clamber over the truck, he would be sighted and pulled down by the man—orders or no orders. Dean just knew that if he was sighted, the three would continue to chance him.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to access his unresponsive ability. _Come on! Take me back! _He silently pleaded. _Get me the hell out of here!_ His eyes flew open, hoping to see something different than the desolate greyness of this bleak future. His heart sank as the too familiar street and the too familiar hazmat truck appeared in his vision again. _Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap._

"Screw the guy!" One of the other hazmat men responded to the one approaching the street corner. "Let him die, he's probably infected anyway and we'll have to kill him before he can pass it along to anyone else. Anyway, if the virus doesn't get him, he'll be picked up by a patrol sooner or later!"

The footsteps stopped, the man was obviously considering the other's words. "Okay, fine!" The man said, his footsteps sounding again, only this time growing fainter. "I'm almost out of air anyway."

"That's the way. Let's get the hell out of here before it gets dark. This place scares the hell out of me when its night…" The voices faded as the hazmat team turned around and began to retrace their steps back towards the fragile safety of the Quarantine.

Dean released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. His heart still pounded in his ribcage, but the steady beat had begun to slow as the adrenaline began to trickle out of his body. Dean ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair and leant heavily against the side of the hazmat truck.

He sucked in deep breaths and began to walk towards the corner of the street. The hazmat team's voices had disappeared completely as they made their way through the rapidly darkening city. What one of the men had said really struck home for Dean; he looked around the shadowy street and tried not to think of the book: _I Am Legend_. He shuddered and peeked around the corner, looking for any sign of a hazmat team or vehicle. The last thing he wanted was to be captured now—not after what just happened.

He moved his hand up his chest, his fingers seeking the bottom of the silver RNA strand necklace in one of his usual habits. Dean looked down, finally recalling why his necklace wasn't there. He smiled softly; he sincerely hoped that Mohinder had passed it along to Elle. He wanted her to have it—considering he had thought there was a high chance he was going to die. He was pleased that he was right about that and his paranoia had not been for nothing. He just assumed that he would have died going after Claire. Bob had told him that it would be a _lot_ harder than it seemed—thanks to the late Arthur Petrelli's protection on the girl… It was one of the things Bob had warned him about when he gave him the assignment.

Dean shook his head and crept round the corner, attempting to keep an eye of the hazmat team while trying to stay hidden in case one of them looked over their shoulder. He had only paid minimal attention to where he was going while he was being chased. He couldn't afford to get lost, not now, not at night.

He followed the three men towards a straight stretch of road tat was free of all debris, like a great amount of effort was used to keep it that way. He remembered running along it as soon as he had found his way out of the Quarantine with the men in hazmat suits on his trail. As soon as the men reached the stretch of highway-like road, they stopped and looked to the left like they were expecting something.

Dean frowned and crept closer, only stopping to duck behind a forgotten car when their voices faintly reached his ears. Dean poked his head around the side and watched as the men waited.

"So, what happened with that woman again?" One of the men asked the others.

"Hell, I dunno. The scientists wanna poke and prod her. There was some sort of anomaly in her blood. You know the kind of thing that those people get when they were exposed to the virus but didn't catch it." The man shrugged. "Guess they wanna try to develop a cure or something. It'll be useless though, considering all of the others they've done it to."

"That anomaly's the reason we went after the guy too. They wanna know if he has the same thing." Dean recognised the speaker as the man who had come so close to finding him before, it was clear he didn't want to talk about the testing the other man had mentioned. "I'd doubt it though; apparently the anomaly makes the person weak and light-headed. I mean, did you see him run? I doubt we would have been able to catch him—suits or no suits."

Dean smiled as the man's words reached his ears. He _was_ pretty fast, it helped that The Company required its field agents to be in top physical form. He frowned as the roar of car engines reached his ears, snapping his mind back to the men.

Dean looked on as several hazmat vehicles sped past on the highway, not even attempting to slow down to pick up the three men. The men just stood there and watched, not even trying to signal one of the vehicles to stop. They were all heading towards the Quarantine Dean had fled from. What the hell was going on? He had gotten the impression that the Quarantine was fully stocked and fully manned—aside from those who had pursued him.

The very last truck in the line slowed to a stop in front of the three men, its side door opening wide revealing several fully uniformed hazmat men. Dean quickly pulled his head back around and strained his ears to hear what was being said between the men.

"What the hells going on?" One of the three asked loudly.

Dean risked a peek from behind the car. He could hear what was being said between them anymore. The three had scrambled into the truck and the door had already half-closed behind them.

Dean straightened and moved out of his hiding spot, watching as the hazmat truck tore after the others, leaving thick black burn-marks in the grey road. He stood at the crossroads and looked around. Directly across from him was another garbage-filled street, full of abandoned cars and other identifiable objects. The highway was completely different however. It was exactly as Dean first thought, not a trace of garbage could be seen on its clean length. He hadn't really bothered to pay attention to it before, his only thought was that he had to get the hell off it and find a labyrinth of streets to lose his pursuers.

He followed the highway left with his eyes, watching the hazmat trucks speed towards the Quarantine. Dean frowned and peered past the rapidly moving trucks towards the Quarantine's buildings. A long plume of grey smoke was featuring prominently against the darkening sky.

He began to jog, slowly accelerating into a full sprint. So many thoughts flashed through his head: Procedures and rules that had been drilled into him during his years at Hartsdale and Primatech, each one telling him what he should do and how to do it. He ignored them, like he had done so many times. He knew it was a mistake; his inability to listen to his common sense had gotten men killed before. But this was different, this time he was alone and this time, the person he needed to reach was near that plume of smoke.

His lungs ached from his exertion, his legs were pleading with him to stop and rest. Both were still trying to recover from the last time he sprinted like this. He could see the flames now, orange tendrils snaking up to lick at the sky. He could hear the screams over the roar of the flames, people calling out to be saved.

The hazmat trucks had stopped near the entrance to the Quarantine and men were pouring out of them, some holding fire-extinguishers and others rushing in to pull people away from the flames. They wouldn't be able to save everyone, fires spread quickly; Dean had seen it before.

He pushed his way past several men in hazmat suits, desperately looking for the one person he needed. He needed her to get himself back… He had _promised_ her he'd take her back. She was probably the only reason he had been dragged here—of all the places and times he could have ended up in.

A small crowd of people were gathered together in a corner, away from the flames. He knew he wouldn't see her there, if anything, she would still be wherever she was taken. If the scientist here were anything like those at The Company, they would leave her strapped to whatever they had strapped her to and save their own skins.

Dean grabbed a passing man and spun him round to face him. "What happened?" Dean yelled over the flames.

The man just looked at him strangely, his eyes blank.

"What happened?" Dean repeated. "What started this?" He gestured broadly with his hand, leaving no doubt about what he meant.

"The… The pa-patients did." The man stuttered fearfully. "I t-tried to tell th-them i-it wasn't a go-good idea to te-test them. Bu-but we had to… we h-had to find a cure."

Dean looked past the man and stared at the Quarantine building in horror. It wasn't the supposed testing and experimentation on some of the patients that bothered him—he had seen more than enough of that back at Hartsdale—it was the fact that Caitlin had probably been taken to the place where the fire had originated.

"Quick," Dean yelled at the man, "the girl that was taken in that courtyard maybe an hour ago. Where is she?"

"Isolation." The man stated without a hint of his shock induced shudder. "All of the suspected cases are taken there first; just in case they don't have the virus."

Dean shoved his way past the man and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to force his ability to do what he wanted. He struggled for control—he never thought he'd ever had his ability as much as he did at this moment. Pain pulsed through his head but through the aches, Dean smiled. He could feel it working; he could feel Hiro's ability bending to his will. A feeling of euphoria rushed through him. This always happened eventually, no matter how difficult or unruly the ability was to control. It gave him great satisfaction knowing that he was gaining control.

He felt the sensation of being twisted around, only this time the sickening feeling of being sucked down a plughole wasn't there to make him want to vomit.

The twisted ceased and Dean opened his eyes. He was in a white-tiled hallway that reminded him distinctly of a hospital. Several doorways lined the wall, each one firmly closed and most probably locked. He couldn't hear the fire from where he was, just the hustle and bustle of people moving around and the sound of traffic outside.

Dean frowned and walked slowly, heading towards a window at the end of the white hallway. Orange light cascaded through the glass panels, half-blinding Dean as he strode forward. His stomach churned uneasily, something had changed, and there was no doubt in his mind that something had gone horribly wrong.

"Or something horribly right," Dean muttered, the thought blossoming in his mind. He latched onto it and held it tightly, it was about time something went right here. It all depended on what had happened.

Dean paused in mid-step as a muffled scream reached his ears. He turned as cocked his head slightly. The sound was coming from one of the doors. Dean approached the door and rapped sharply against its frame, listening closely as the muffled screams paused and then returned louder and even more desperate than before.

Dean tested the door handle and pushed the door open when the handle gave way. His eyes swiftly examined the brightly lit room, seeking out the source of the muffled screams. He immediately spotted the source of the screams. It was Caitlin, restrained in a hospital bed with her right sleeve rolled up to her shoulder.

Her eyes widened in shock when they met Dean's and her shouts died down. For a moment Dean thought he spotted anger flickering in her brown eyes, but if there was, it was quickly smothered by relief.

Dean darted forward and quickly checked her arm, ignoring the gag in her mouth. "Just hold on, Caitlin." He hissed. "I need to check if they've done anything to you." Dean quickly checked the crook of Caitlin's elbows, looking for any sign that a needle had pierced her skin.

"Sorry about that." Dean said as he leaned back and grinned. He reached forward and removed Caitlin's gag. "I thought they might have tried to inject you with the virus. I heard some of them talking so..." Dean trailed off and busied himself unbinding the restraints on Caitlin's wrists.

"What happened?" she asked as she watched Dean unfasten her restraints. Dean could easily detect anger in her voice and for a moment he considered keeping her in restraints—at least until she calmed down. "First you were there and then you weren't and they dragged me into this room and—"

She broke off as the restraint on her right wrist came loose. In one long, continuous movement, she drew back her hand and slapped Dean as hard as she could.

Dean recoiled, his hands leaving the restraint on her left wrist to move to his stinging cheek. "Ah, what the hell?!"

"You left me!" Caitlin shouted; she looked on the verge of tears. "Do you have any idea what that feels like? You gave me my hope back and then you took it away!"

Dean rubbed his smarting cheek and narrowly avoided another swipe from Caitlin. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to leave." He grabbed Caitlin's wrist as she drew it back for another swing. "I'll strap you back in until you calm down, I swear I will."

He held onto her until he was sure that she wasn't going to hit him again and then began to work on releasing her left wrist from its restraints. "I really am sorry, you know." He said conversationally as he worked. "I can barely control this thing. We can talk later, I take it you heard the riot and the giant fire?"

The restraint on Caitlin's wrist came free and she sat up suddenly on the narrow bed, flinging her arms around Dean's neck. "Where'd you go?" She mumbled tearfully.

Dean pulled away and immediately noticed the tears that Caitlin was desperately trying to hold back. "I teleported onto the roof—against my will by the way—and spend about half-an-hour running away from hazmat teams. And now I'm here."

"Why'd you bother coming back? You could have just left without me."

Dean quickly pulled on the restraints, allowing Caitlin's legs to swing free. He looked up at her and smiled. "I told you, I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress. Really I am, there was this girl being attacked once and I killed the men attacking her—well technically one of them, Elle fried the other."

"Who's Elle?"

Dean quickly looked away and busied himself checking the hallway, looking for anyone who might interfere. He was mentally kicking himself; he really shouldn't have mentioned Elle in front of Caitlin. "No one," Dean said evasively, he could hear the awkward situation bells ringing in his head. "You'll find out sooner or later though."

Dean turned back around and smiled widely. 'Well, do you want to get the hell out of her now, or what?" He frowned when he noticed Caitlin staring out of the room's window, an expression of complete astonishment on her face.

"What?" Dean asked as he walked up to the Irishwoman and gazed out the window. His expression settled in a similar look of shock and disbelief. "No freaking way."

The window provided a clear view into the rapidly darkening city of Dublin. There was no trace of the virus in the city—there was no evidence that the city had even been affected by the virus. The city was full of moving cars and crowds of people, each looked like they were rushing to get home before it got too dark. It wasn't anything like the desolate city Dean had run through.

He and Caitlin shared a stunned look. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

* * *

_Sylar, Manhattan. Present Day._

Sylar let out a large groan as he picked himself up from the dirty alleyway ground. His chest stung painfully, the pain came from where that man had placed his hands. He tenderly touched his chest and the pain intensified greatly. The pain brought him back to reality. He had thought he was invincible, he had assumed that the only person even remotely capable of stopping him had blown up in the sky.

All of the plans he had carefully formed while he was trying to regain his powers were rapidly disintegrating. He had intended to kill Maya first, but the girl was saved by two others, both with equally delicious abilities. He had intended to kill Elle, but then Maya had stepped between him and his target. He had tried to fight off the two and had ended up being blasted by something that burned more than he thought anything could burn.

All of these plans and tactics were flashing through his head. He knew he wouldn't be able to get to any of his targets now—not without letting everyone know where he was. That fact made him furious. He needed to stay in the shadows, for now at least.

He could hear the ambulance sirens right around the corner and into the side-street. He hoped that everyone survived the crash; he could hear individual heartbeats from each of the four involved. He didn't want their brains to go to waste. He just needed to bide his time now and wait for someone to get sloppy.

Sylar smiled as he remembered what Mohinder had said to him back at the laboratory: _The Company injected you as well._ His quest to gain new abilities could wait, he had something else to occupy his time and he had the feeling that this would be just as fun and satisfying.

Information. That's what he needed. It was something they had, but he didn't. They knew who he was and they knew he had his abilities back. Whereas he didn't know who they were and he didn't know where they were. He could always interrogate Elle or Mohinder, but he would still encounter the same problem.

Sylar winced as his chest ached painfully. He looked down in surprise. Part of the material had been burned away where the man had placed his hands. Sylar moved the fabric and tenderly touched the dry red skin underneath. There were two hand-shaped sunburns across his chest, each hurting worse then any sunburn he had ever obtained before; he could feel the heat radiating from them.

Revenge _was_ a dish that was best served cold. But when faced with several different options, one of them would have to be served hot.


	6. Chapter 6: Stratagem

A/N: It's been pretty hectic with this fic lately. I changed the title to _Darkest Before Dawn_ and then back... (Go Indecision!) But now I'm set. I know for certain where I want to go now with this fic. Now, just thank you to everyone who's been reading and thank you to everyone who's been reviewing!

_

* * *

__Unknown, Unknown._

He immediately knew it was a dream, it was completely obvious from the moment he looked around the bleak greyness of the surroundings. He folded his arms and waited. His foot tapped impatiently against the grey ground. He hoped things would get a bit more colourful when she arrived; he had no choice but to wait for her. He was in _her_ realm now.

He blinked as the environment began to shift, twisting into the likeness of a medieval watch tower. Soft torch flames lit the shadowy tower, bringing out every nook and cranny in the dirty wooden floor. Narrow slits decorated the rough stone walls, spaced evenly around the circular platform. He grinned to himself; she was fascinated by medieval times. It was probably why she was so attracted to—

He was jerked out of his reverie as a brown-haired woman appeared inside the shadowy tower. He was facing one of the window slits, looking at something he was sure he wouldn't be able to see. She could shape things as she saw fit in this place and she always did so without hesitation.

"Getting rusty, Sophie?" He asked the woman. "I've been waiting here longer than usual."

Sophie turned away from the window slit and glared at him with a pair of bright green eyes. "I never get rusty. I've just had other matters to attend to."

He smiled at the startling colour of Sophie's eyes. This was another thing that she did here. "Nice eyes. Still altering perceptions too?"

Sophie's eyes faded from their brilliant green to a duller shade—her natural colour. He winced as her figure began to shift, changing into her natural form; he noticed that really the only thing that changed was the colour of her hair; it went from pure brown to auburn. She smiled widely at his reaction. "How did it go, Steven?"

"Well. Sylar's still alive and hasn't killed anyone yet. I think Owen gave him a pretty nasty sunburn, but that's the extent of his injuries." Steven paused and turned slightly, placing a roughly calloused palm against the rough stone of the tower. The wall began to ripple. He had minimal control over this place, not nearly as much as Sophie, but enough to get by. This was _his_ dream after all. "One of the women displayed an interesting power, kind of a deadly airborne pathogen. It causes black tears to run from your eyes and immediate fatigue. It made Owen fall of the roof, I barely managed to slow him down in time."

"Good." Sophie smiled as she placed her hand on the wall, completely parallel to Steven's. The rippling intensified and the scene of the crash began to play out in front of them. They watched as Sylar pushed his way through the gathering crowd and eventually stopped as a woman stepped between him and the blonde lying unconscious on the ground. Sophie frowned at this and peered closer.

"Find something interesting?" Steven asked, glancing sideways at Sophie and than back at the unfolding scene with greater interest.

"I think that's Bishop's little girl—the one out-cold on the ground."

Steven shrugged unconcernedly. The Bishops weren't his concern. Though some of the others would be furious if they found out that someone else had been involved in their deaths; Bob had put several of them in a Company cell. "Are you planning on having some fun in her dreams?"

"No." Sophie shook her head and gave Steven a toothy smile. "I'm much to busy to make her scream at the moment. I've been trying to locate the others—as you well know. Most of them don't want anything to do with each other."

"Well, I'm with them on that. Some of them deserve stay locked up. You remember what happened with Eric."

"He may have had a change of heart in his thirteen years of captivity."

"I doubt it." Steven scoffed. "He'll be exactly the same and will try to finish what he started before he got himself caught. I told you back then that you needed to stop him from doing it. I said that going after that family would bring The Company on our asses."

"And you were right." Sophie conceded. "You see clearer than the others." She closed her eyes and the car crash scene began to warp, changing into a darkened room.

Steven looked around with a slight frown on his face. It looked like the living room to someone's house. Several items of furniture were positioned neatly around the room. The clock mounted on the wall read that it was nearly two-thirty in the morning. "Is this…?" He began cautiously, looking at Sophie again. She was watching the scene with rapt attention. He turned back and began to walk around. He immediately noticed that they were positioned in the room and they weren't just watching it from a high vantage point. Sophie always liked to call these dreams high-def replays.

"It is." Sophie said; answering the question Steven had failed to complete. "I don't think Eric actually expected this. They were already awake when he came a' calling. And they were fighting with the desperation and ferocity that only a parent who feared for their child could understand."

"He still killed them though. I don't want to see this, Sophie."

Sophie shrugged and the scene disappeared just as a woman emerged tiredly from a hall into the room. "It's quite interesting though, Steven." She said as they appeared back into the medieval tower. "It would certainly be valuables leverage if we ever needed it. It would most definitely get him of our backs."

"You're not talking about Eric, are you?" Steven asked carefully.

"No." Sophie grinned. "As I said: You always did see clearer than most."

Steven sighed and swept a hand through his short hair. "So, I suppose I should be asking how many of the others you've been able to convince."

Sophie grimaced and clenched her jaw angrily. "So far only Alana and Casey; the others are too caught up in their own games and revenge. Most of them aren't even out of their prisons yet! They refuse to see that our division was exactly the reason we were caught last time!"

"They're stubborn," Steven shrugged, "They'll see sense soon. At least Alana agrees; she'll be the one we really need—a lot more than the others."

"True." Sophie replied. She looked down and when she spoke again her tone was downcast and disappointed. "I haven't been able to locate _him_, though. I've tracked down Hiro Nakamura but I haven't been able to rip a location from his dreams. He always wakes up."

"Well you do attract more flies with honey. Maybe you should try a different approach—lay off the nightmares for a little bit."

"Where's the fun in that Steven. Don't tell me you're going soft. All of the fun is in causing horror." As she spoke the grey stone of the tower disappeared and began to twist in a vicious circle, the stone turned into dark water and began to spiral uncontrollably. White spray passed through Steven and fell down towards the darkness at the waters core.

Steven kept the fact that this was only a dream clear in his mind. "I am not my brother!" Steven stated angrily. "This doesn't scare me!"

"It wouldn't scare him either." Sophie laughed. "You know what truly terrifies him."

Steven winced as the sun appeared in the sky. The whirlpool rapidly lost its ferocity and eventually disappeared from existence. He looked up at the sun and his eyes widened in surprise as it's light stopped shining down, plunging the world into pitch blackness. He could hear petrified screams coming from nearby and he immediately registered them as his brother's.

"Stop it!" Steven demanded. Harsh laughter sounded as Sophie heard Steven's words. The screams intensified and Steven felt anger surge. "I mean it! Stop it, Sophie!"

The darkness disappeared and they were back inside the tower, feeble lighting and all.

"You're getting soft, Steven." Sophie said mockingly. "A few days away from the nightmares and now you can't handle them. You used to beg me to make you scream, remember that?"

"I was a prisoner then. I had no contact apart from the people who wanted to poke needles into my brain."

"And now you're free. But you know; you'll never be free from the nightmares. I still remember what really makes you terrified and it's such a small thing too. I'm just glad it's not something as trivial as being scared of the dark."

"My brother isn't afraid of the dark." Steven retorted defensively.

"No." Sophie admitted. "But he is afraid of something very similar."

Steven looked around as he and Sophie suddenly dropped into a crowded New Yorker street. People passed by, completely oblivious to their sudden appearance. "Everyone has their fears, Steven." Sophie said as she watched each person passing by hungrily. "Half the fun is finding out what makes them scream."

"And what's the other half?"

Sophie grinned and stared into his eyes. "Listening to them scream."

Steven rolled his eyes accessed his ability. The masses of passing people slowed down considerably, each person moving at less than a slug's pace. "Is there anything else you want?" He asked as he weaved his way through the people, heading towards Sophie's position. Just because this was a dream, it didn't mean that he could walk through other people. Sophie always manipulated dreams to make them as realistic as possible.

Sophie stared at Steven, her eyes narrowing at his tone. "Yes, in fact. I want you and your brother to go back to Primatech. I trust you remember the vault?" As she spoke the street shifted and they stood inside a small room filled with draws and glass cases.

Steven looked around in surprise. He had heard about Primatech's secure vault and all of the objects held inside. "What exactly do you want from here?" He asked as he bent down to inspect a perfectly preserved brain.

"As much as you can get." Sophie replied. "Peter Petrelli and Adam Monroe broke into the vault. This of course led to Adam being taken somewhere by Hiro Nakamura. The Company is making plans to relocate everything inside here. I just want you to take whatever's there when you arrive."

"And what if we run into Knox while we're there? He escaped from level five around the same time. He knows that Owen and I were imprisoned in Primatech too. He'll think we left him there when we escaped."

Sophie laughed at the obvious fear in Steven's voice when he mentioned Knox's name. "I doubt that Benjamin will still be hanging around there. He has connections in New Orleans and I'd think he would want to get back there as soon as possible, don't you?"

Steven only nodded and took a step back as the vault vanished into the original bleak greyness—Sophie along with it. "You had better be right, Sophie." He muttered under his breath.

"I'm always right, Steven." Sophie whispered in his ear. "I told you that when I said they would slowly hunt us down if we didn't group together. And I _was_ right, wasn't I?"

Steven spun around, searching for his pledged leader. He smiled ruefully as his eyes encountered nothing but greyness. It was time to wake up and get out of Sophie's realm. If he stayed, the dream manipulator would be sure to have her fun.

He turned and spread his arms wide, he usually hated this part; it was an uncomfortable experience at best. He closed his eyes and the sensation of falling filled him.

* * *

_Mohinder Suresh, Roosevelt Hospital__, New York._

"Alright, Mr. Suresh," The doctor said as he carefully inspected the stitches on Mohinder's head wound. "Blink a couple of times for me, okay."

Mohinder complied, blinking several times in rapid succession. He wasn't sure what had happened, the very last thing he remembered was Elle storming into the Reed Street Laboratory and driving away from Sylar. The next thing he knew he was waking up here and the doctor's were saying he'd been in a car accident.

His very first thought when he had heard that was about Molly. The doctor had said she was going to be fine and that he could see her as soon as they were finished here. But despite the doctor's words, Mohinder had still tried to get off the bed he had been placed on and find her. He had gone nearly two steps when the sudden dizziness and nausea had caused him to stumble.

"You don't need to worry about young Miss Walker, okay. She'll be fine." The doctor said conversationally. "Worry about yourself for now. You need to take it easy for a couple of weeks. As for your memories, amnesia is common in concussions such as yours."

"What about the others?" Mohinder said, his voice slurring slightly from the slight anaesthesia the doctor used when he was stitching the cut on Mohinder's forehead.

The doctor leaned back with a troubled expression on his face. "Miss Bishop is still in surgery and I haven't heard anything since she went in. As for Miss Herrera, she's still unconscious and we don't know when she'll wake up. But there is no record of her entering the country; it's likely that when she does wake up, she'll be deported."

The doctor picked up a bandage and proceeded to wrap it around Mohinder's head, making sure that the cut was properly covered. "We'll have to make sure you don't fall asleep again. We'll keep you here for a few days under observation."

The doctor stood up and busied himself with removing the latex gloves from his hands. I'll have a nurse take you to Miss. Walker's room." He said as the final glove snapped off his hand. "I think Dr. Evan's has been keeping her company."

"Who's Dr. Evans?" Mohinder asked as he rubbed his temples tenderly.

The doctor smiled widely as he flung his gloves into a bin. "He's the man who most-likely saved Miss Bishop's life. He resuscitated her on the scene before the ambulance arrived. He said there was some sort of incident after the accident and it caused her to crash."

Mohinder frowned as he tried to clear the murky blackness in his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't remember what happened. "I'm sorry. I don't remember him."

The doctor shrugged, completely unconcerned with Mohinder's answer. "Don't worry about it. I've got to go now. We've been packed busy today, well, more so since the accident." The doctor shook his head and his smile returned. "I'll tell a nurse to take you down to Miss Walker."

Mohinder nodded and winced slightly as a sharp rap sounded on the other side of the closed door. The doctor frowned and stood up from his seat to answer.

"Yes?" He said as he opened the door, revealing an apologetic-looking nurse on the other side. "I'm sorry, doctor. But there's a Detective Fuller from NYPD here. He wants to ask some questions about the accident."

The doctor nodded and opened the door wider. "Yes, yes, of course." He turned back and smiled regretfully had Mohinder. "I'm sorry; your visit to Miss Walker will have to wait until the detective finishes."

Mohinder nodded and didn't say anything in reply. He could wait to see Molly. The doctor had assured him she was safe and being taken care of."

"I'll send him in…" The doctor paused. "Are you sure you're up to answering questions. It might be better to wait until your heads cleared."

"I'll be fine." Mohinder said as he looked up to stare at the doctor. He plastered a fake smile across his face and watched as the doctor nodded and left the hospital room.

Mohinder looked around and let the smile drop from his face. His eyes eventually landed on the clock that hung next to the door. It had been nearly six hours since the crash and ever since he had woken up his mind had been racing. He hadn't been entirely truthful when he said to the doctor that he didn't remember the crash. He remembered the instant when Maya had stepped between Sylar and an unconscious Elle but everything that happened immediately before that and after was a blur.

He looked towards the door as a man he recognised as Matt's partner Detective Fuller walked into the room. There was a guarded expression on the man's face, a tribute from the years of experience he had in separating truth and facts from the never-ending lies.

"Mohinder Suresh." Detective Fuller said as he reached forward and shook Mohinder's hand. "I just want to ask you a few questions about the accident."

"Okay. Well I don't really know what to tell you. I don't remember the crash."

"So your doctor said." Fuller replied expressionlessly. "I just want to know what you do remember. We can leave some of the other question until you're up to it."

"I remember driving the car; I suppose I must have been going too fast. After that it's all blank."

Fuller looked down at a notepad Mohinder hadn't noticed him holding before. "One of the witnesses to the crash swears that the car didn't hit anything and that it just suddenly stopped, throwing the woman in the passenger's seat through the windshield."

Mohinder shrugged and shook his head blankly. It was a blur from him, he knew that Elle had been thrown from the car, but that was it. "I'm sorry, I don't know."

"The witness also stated that after the car froze, it suddenly lifted and flipped over. This was confirmed by three other people who had seen the crash. Do you have any idea how that might have happened?"

Mohinder shook his head again. "No."

"What were you doing before the crash?"

The question came as a great surprise to Mohinder. He lifted his head and hesitated, unsure how to answer. He couldn't tell them the truth about what happened, but he could tell already that Fuller thought he was formulating a lie. "I… I was working." Mohinder said finally.

"Working?" Fuller said after he processed Mohinder's words. He wrote something down on the pad and looked back up. "You're records say that you're unemployed and that you haven't worked since you quit your job as a cab driver four months ago. So if you were working, what were you doing?"

"I work at Reed Street Laboratories." Mohinder said, his voice gaining confidence with every word. He knew The Company would be sure to clean up the mess there as soon as possible, he knew it would be safe to lie. "I work with Elle Bishop and Maya Herrera there. Molly was with me for the day. I was driving other woman home when the crash happened."

Fuller frowned and noted down Mohinder's explanation. "Okay, that's all for now. If your memory clears; you now how to contact me."

Mohinder nodded and watched as Fuller turned and exited the room. He breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed. He knew he had narrowly avoided a landmine. Now he needed to warn the others before they accidentally blundered onto it.

* * *

_Peter Petrelli, Odessa Hospital, Texas._

Peter sat back in the hospital chair and watched Nathan's chest rise and fall. The doctors all said Nathan was stable but still in a critical condition. Peter knew from what little experience he actually had as a nurse that Nathan's chances were slim at best. He closed his eyes and listened to the slow, rhythmic bleeps of Nathan's heart monitor.

Every hour when a nurse or doctor came in to check on Nathan's status, Peter reached out and probed their thoughts with Matt's telepathy. It was all the same, thoughts of sympathy and pity. None of them really believed that Nathan was going to pull through—they were hopeful, that went without saying, but they were also realistic.

Peter let his mind wander, absently thinking about the woman in the waiting room. She knew what was happening yet she had been sitting there like nothing at all concerned her. She reminded him of a Company employee with her cool attitude. He wouldn't have been surprised if she really did work for the people who had kept him away from the world for four months.

Peter frowned and his mind snapped back to reality as a sharp knock sounded at the door. It wasn't the nurse or a doctor, they just came in anyway and it hadn't even been half-an-hour since they had last checked in.

Peter stood and crossed the room, opening the door wide. His eyebrows rose in surprise when he recognised the girl from the waiting room standing at the door impatiently, her book tucked carelessly under one arm.

"I need to talk to you!" She stated, pushing her way past Peter and into Nathan's room.

"Hey! Wait!" Peter said, turning to face the woman. "Who the hell are you? What do you want?"

"Well, short answer." The woman said as she gestured for Peter to close the door. "My name's Lily Miles and I'm an agent with The Company. I was sent here to make sure you didn't go on the warpath after Nathan was… you know. But right now events are spiralling right out of our control."

"Was The Company responsible for shooting Nathan?" Peter demanded, crossing the room to grab Lily's arms.

Lily jerked out of Peter's grasp and crossed the room to close the door Peter had neglected to shut. "I don't know who shot Nathan." She admitted. "If it _was_ us, I haven't heard anything about it. But I'm not here to talk about that."

"What then?"

"My ability for one," Lily said, "You absorbed my empathy from me back in the waiting room. You have complete control over other people's emotions; if you don't know how to control it, their moods will greatly influenced by your own. I think about three hours ago, you accidentally made a nurse cry."

Peter looked away, remembering that incident guiltily. He hadn't understood what happened then. He had just been feeling overwhelmingly sad at the time.

"I'm just telling you this because influencing people's moods can be one of the most dangerous things you can do. You have to be practically the epitome of cold. This hasn't really been an issue before now because I've been keeping your moods from influencing everyone else's. But now I have to go because one of our agents has gotten herself and some others into a mess that will take literally weeks to clean up." She shook her head in disgust and continued. "So keep calm, Peter and you won't have a problem."

Peter stared at her and then probed her thoughts. He was surprised to find them unguarded, this time Lily was too worried and occupied to think about anything else._ It's not like we can rely on Bob anyway. The stupid bastard is slowly digging his own grave; couldn't even be bothered to make sure his own daughter was safe. If Elle dies, I swear I'm gonna kill Bob. She doesn't deserve this…_ _the way he treats her…_

"Elle deserves everything bad that happens to her." Peter spat as the memory of what the electrically-charged woman did to Ricky flooded to the surface.

Lily just stared at him, her expression cold. "If you truly believe that it just proves how little you know about her. You should have seen her once she found out you escaped—hell, you should have felt what she was feeling when she found out." She turned back and pulled open the door. "By the way, Peter. If you happen to run across a man named Benjamin Washington. You run. You run your ass off and hope he doesn't follow! There, that's my warning to you!"

She exited the room and closed the door behind her. Peter had half been expecting a slam. He dropped heavily back on the seat facing Nathan's bed and mulled over Lily's words. It wasn't long until his exhaustion from the last few days finally caught up with him and made him drift into sleep.

* * *

A/N: The Characters Benjamin "Knox" Washington and Sophie are two characters that are supposed to be in Volume 3: Villains. I do not own them. 


	7. Chapter 7: Deceit

A/N: Okay, I know things have been going a bit slow in this fic—I'll be the first to admit that—but it's about to start picking up pace very soon. All the chapters before were necessary for set up. So thank you to everyone whose stuck with me this far.

* * *

_Monica Dawson and Micah Sanders, New Orleans._

Monica stared at the photo of the late Niki Sanders with prickling eyes. She owed Niki more then she could ever repay. She had sacrificed herself so that she could live. Guilt steadily plagued her; she knew it was her fault Niki had died.

She heard snivelling and sobbing from the child next to her and she wrapped her arm around his shoulder in a comforting gesture. Although Micah never said it aloud, Monica knew that he blamed himself. She had told her younger cousin repeatedly that it was not his fault, but hew just looked at her with those sad pair of eyes and she could tell that he didn't believe her.

Monica wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and knelt down so she could look at Micah face to face. "Look, Micah," she thought maybe persistence would be the best way to handle this with Micah; she couldn't let him keep feeling guilt about what happened. None of this was his fault at all. "None of this is your fault, okay?"

Micah just nodded once and continued to stare at Niki's photo. It was really all that Micah had left of her now. The police were conduction an investigation into the fire, but had so far come up short. They couldn't even pin anything on the gang kid that had started the fire. All they had was circumstantial evidence. One of the cops that Monica recognised from the attempted robbery not long ago had told her that he was going to do everything he could to pin something on the gang. He had told her that the police had been trying to break up that gang ever since their previous leader disappeared seven years ago.

His words of comfort and promises had done nothing to ease her guilt.

Monica stood back up and gently squeezed Micah's shoulder. She looked out the window and into the darkened sky. Everyone was still awake despite the late hour; it had been this way ever since the fire two days ago. Even now, the fire had only just been fully extinguished. A preliminary sweep of the destroyed building hadn't been able to find Niki's corpse. Monica hadn't let that bit of information reach Micah's ears. She didn't want him to have false hope that his mother had somehow gotten out before the building exploded.

Monica turned as she felt her grandmother's hand gently touch her shoulder.

"You look tired." Nana Dawson stated. It was true; Monica had gotten next-to-nothing rest since the explosion. "Have you been sleeping?"

Monica shook her head. "No, Nana, Its just nightmares, bad ones."

"Want to talk about them?"

"No, no. I'll be fine."

Nana Dawson patted her shoulder and smiled. "Well, I'm always here if you need anything."

"I know." Monica smiled weakly but when she directed her gaze towards Micah, her pseudo-smile faded entirely. "Its Micah I'm really worried about. He barely speaks anymore. He sleeps with that picture of Niki and Uncle D.L.'s medal pressed against his chest—and that's when he actually does sleep."

"He'll come right. He just needs his time to grieve. Soon he'll be back to how he was."

"You're sure? It doesn't seem like he'll ever be the same again."

"We just need to be there for him. Let him know that he's not alone."

Monica nodded and turned back to look into the night sky.

Nana Dawson sighed and patted the back of Monica's hand. "I woke up last night and you weren't in your bed. Where were you?"

Monica looked back at her and fixed her fake smile across her face again. "I was just outside." She said easily. "I had another nightmare and just wanted to clear my head."

"Okay," Nana nodded. "Well, my own bed is calling me. Make sure Micah gets into his soon. And make sure you do as well."

"Okay, Nana." Monica replied.

Nana Dawson nodded once and moved away from Monica, walking out of the living area. Monica watched as she stroked Micah's hair as she passed by him. Micah didn't appear to notice her touch. He just continued to stare at Niki's photo with unshed tears glittering in his eyes.

Monica felt her heart twinge in her chest. She really wanted to take Micah's pain away. She knew he couldn't handle his the way she was with hers. She crossed the room quickly and placed a guiding hand on Micah's shoulder. "Come on, kid." She said gently. "Time for bed."

"How'd you feel when your mom died?" Micah said suddenly, looking up at Monica with those same pair of grief-filled eyes.

His question surprised Monica, causing her to hesitate before answering. "I… I…" Monica paused before continuing. "I thought it wasn't fair. I thought that God wasn't being fair when my mom died in the storm and people like those gang kids survived. I thought the pain alone was gonna kill me. But I know that my mom's watching over me now, just like your mom and dad are watching over you. The pain never stops hurting, but you find ways to move past it."

Micah nodded. "Will you…?" He began.

Monica nodded and smiled. "Of course, kid. I will as long as you want me there."

Micah smiled softly. It was the first time he had smiled in two days. Monica held onto his shoulder and guided him out of the living room, switching off the light as she went. When they entered Damon and Micah's shared bedroom, Micah immediately crossed over to his bed and climbed in.

Monica pulled out a chair and sat down next to the bed, leaning over to place a soft kiss on Micah's forehead. "Night, kid."

Micah murmured his own goodnight and rolled over, Niki's photo still clutched in his hands.

Monica smiled tenderly and leaned back in her chair. The room was silent aside from Damon's soft snores. Monica reached into her pocket and pulled out the Ipod The Company had given her. She quickly scrolled through the list of videos and continued from where she had left off the night before.

She had been lying to Nana Dawson when she said that she had been having nightmares. She stayed awake because of her guilt and her desire to change that guilt and make it into burning resolve.

Her eyes paled and lost their colour as the video began to imprint itself into her brain. Action after action after action became recorded into her muscles, every little twitch and leap. Every blink, every raised eyebrow, every single movement made, she memorised.

It could have been hours until colour finally returned into her eyes. Monica shook her head slightly and tried to fight off the sudden rush of dizziness that came after hours of her muscles memorising every action. She blinked and checked the digital clock on the bedside table. It was nearly two-o'clock in the morning. Monica smiled; she'd been sitting in that chair for just about three hours.

She stood up and stretched her cramped legs, replacing her Ipod in her pocket. She reached out and stroked Micah's cheek, making sure that the boy was still asleep. Monica turned around and walked out of Damon and Micah's room, moving silently down the hall until she reached her own room. Her bed lay untouched, it had been untouched for two days now.

Her dresser and desk occupied the other side of the room. She checked her reflection in the mirror. She really did look tired; she had barely been getting an hour of sleep in the night. Her boss at work noticed her change in appearance and had even commented on it once. She had told him a form of the truth: That she had been having trouble since the fire; that her mind was racing too fast for her to settle down.

She reached towards her dresser and pulled out neatly folded black clothing—the same outfit she had been wearing the night she had been caught by the gang. She quickly changed into the black outfit, leaving her everyday clothes on the bed.

She drew the hood over her head and moved to open the window above her bed. She silently moved through the small opening and pressed herself against the wall outside. Her feet dug into crevices in the wall, easily holding her steady as she began to climb.

She breathed out and pushed from the wall, easily swinging onto the small fence separating her house from the neighbours. She ran along the fence lightly, he muscles moving fluidly without any command from her brain. Her ability had begun to grow since the fire. Before she could only replicate whatever she saw, fully and exactly; but now she was able to adapt, like the skills were her own now, she could improvise based on surroundings and situation.

She kicked off the fence and began to run, moving silently across rooftops like a shadow in the night, swinging from pole to pole, roof to roof like she had been doing this all her life. The city was her jungle. She paused when she reached the dubbed "bad part" of the city, the place where the fire had started. She knelt down on a narrow beam and watched.

She wasn't going to let herself be taken again. She was using the event of Niki's death to propel herself forward, becoming someone different than the girl Monica. When her eyes were milky white and her muscles moved without permission from her brain. She wasn't Monica.

She was Saint Joan.

* * *

_Mohinder Suresh and Molly Walker, Roosevelt Hospital, New York._

Molly giggled as she moved her red checker across several of Mohinder's black ones. "You're not trying, Mohinder." She laughed. "I don't think it'll look good if someone sees a kid beating you at checkers."

"No, I suppose it won't." Mohinder smiled as he moved his checker over one of Molly's. "But your just getting too good, Molly. I don't think I _can_ win."

Molly laughed in delight as her next turn took away another group of Mohinder's checkers. "I remembered what you told me." She whispered, Mohinder had to strain his ears and leaned forward to hear her. "I told the police man what you told me to say to him. And I didn't mention the boogieman either."

"I'm sorry, Molly." Mohinder replied in the same quiet whisper. "I really wish I hadn't made you lie."

"It's okay. And you were right anyway. Only people like you and Matt can stop the boogieman. If the police went after him, he'd hurt them. It's better this way."

They both looked up as a knock sounded at the door to Molly's hospital room. Mohinder instantly recognised the man as Dr. Evans. He had made it his goal to oversee the wellbeing of everyone involved in the crash. He had said that he had first started taking care of them on the scene of the crash and that he wasn't going to finish until they were all ready to go.

"Excuse me, Mohinder." He said. Mohinder had insisted he call him by his first name. "I need to speak to you."

Mohinder nodded and smiled at Molly, promising to finish their game when he was done. He stood up from the end of Molly's bed and followed Dr. Evan's out of the room.

"What's going on?" Mohinder asked as soon as they were out of Molly's earshot.

"We got a call from Primatech Research; they confirmed what you said about Reed Street Laboratories and are going to be sending someone down to sort out the paper-work tomorrow. They also confirmed that Elle Bishop and Maya Herrera were working for them."

Mohinder struggled to keep a smile off his face. He knew the Company would be keeping an eye on them. It didn't hurt that Elle was Bob's daughter either. "That's excellent news. I trust you've passed that information onto the police?"

Dr. Evan's nodded. "And now I want to know why you've been lying to us about this?"

Mohinder looked up in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"I was at the crash; you weren't just dropping people off at homes. You were running from someone. And then there's that man who came into the site. The one Miss Herrera stepped in front of. You don't work at a Laboratory, Mohinder Suresh. I want to know what's going on!"

"Nothing is 'going on'." Mohinder lied. "I told the police what happened. I told them everything."

"Stop lying to me! The police need to know what really happened! Miss Bishop is lying in a coma and there's a ninety percent chance that she'll never wake up again! On the crash scene, an airborne pathogen was release. It caused everyone in the vicinity to drop like flies. There have been so many people showing up at hospitals around New York complaining of the exact same symptoms that the CDC is sending someone to investigate!"

Mohinder's mouth opened and closed, his lies were unravelling so fast he didn't think he could salvage them.

"And when I was checking on Miss Bishop, I noticed a pair of black parallel lines on her—right where her shoulder meets her neck. I haven't seen any type of scar like that before in my life. What's going on, Mohinder?"

"I don't even know what you're talking about!" Mohinder lied. "A man, airborne pathogens, a scar. I don't remember the crash let alone what happened right after. You have no right to come here and accuse me of lying to you and the police! I'm employed at Primatech Research in Hartsdale; we have a branch in Reed Street where we work. There was a car crash and that's it!"

Dr. Evans stepped back, his mouth forming into a hard line. "Very well, Mr. Suresh. I'll give you a day to change your mind or I'm going to go to the police with what I know. I apologise for disturbing you. If you'll excuse me." Dr. Evans began to walk away, turning a corner and disappearing from Mohinder's view.

Mohinder leant against the door to Molly's room while he waited for his heart to stop pounding in his chest. Everything had come so close to blowing up in his face. The Company better hurry up with whatever they were planning or everything would become exposed.

* * *

_Claire Bennet, Costa Verde._

Claire trudged out towards the family car with a forlorn expression on her face. She had been busying herself with shredding, burning and tearing whatever Company file she could find; it was a small thing but it had worked as a good outlet for all of her frustrations and grief.

As soon as she had heard about Nathan's shooting on the news she had cried, she had just cried and cried until all of the pain started to fade away. There was still a giant lump in her chest and her depressed mood hadn't lifted. She had taken the day off school at the insistence of her mother. She had been glad about that and all day, instead of moping and crying, she had been attacking files. Somehow pretending that a file was one of the bitches she knew at school had been incredibly satisfying. And she wasn't worried about needing the files later; she had decided to listen to her father. She knew that whatever he had done, he had done for his family.

Claire pulled the car-key out of her pocket and quickly unlocked the car. She walked along side, one hand travelling lazily against the warm metal. When she reached the boot, she quickly pulled up on the handle and peered inside the opening. She paused.

There was an umbrella, a rain coat—things that you would usually expect to find in a car-boot. But there weren't any boxes. The three boxes filled with alphabetised files were gone. Claire stared down at the empty space in shock, her mind completely fizzled out.

She left the boot open and ran around to open the car's back door. It was empty. She felt that knot in her chest grow and her stomach churn with panic.

She slammed the car door shut and took steps to race back into the house. She froze as a sudden thought struck her. Her mouth settled into a hard, angry line. "West!" She muttered furiously.

She pulled her cell phone and angrily dialled West's number. She waited for a moment until West's voice appeared on the line.

"Calling to apologise?" West asked.

"That do you do with them?!" Claire demanded.

"Do with what?" West's voice sounded amused on the other side of the phone, his good-humour caused Claire's frustration to grow.

"The files in the car, what did you do with them, West?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Claire." West said. "I haven't been anywhere near your place since you kicked me out."

"They're gone! Three full boxes of The Company's information! If you don't have it then who…" Claire leant heavily against the side of the car. "Oh, no… Please, West. Please tell me you're screwing with me and that you really do have the files hidden under your bed or somewhere."

"Claire, I swear I have no idea what your talking about. Did you lose the files?"

"Somebody's taken them." Claire said simply, all of her anger suddenly disappearing and was replaced by worry and fear.

"Okay, Claire. I'll be right over." West said right before he hung up the phone. Claire mused that he already was half-way out his window.

Claire flipped her phone shut and closed her eyes. Things were moving too fast; no matter where she was The Company always seemed to screw up her life—even when she was leaving them alone.

* * *

_Unknown, Outside Primatech Paper, Odessa, Texas._

He sniffed the wind and detected a variety of scents that someone would expect to find in the air: Grass, car exhaust, people. Yes, the stench of man was exactly what someone would expect to find in the air.

Each person had their own distinctive scent that set them apart from the rest of their kind. It could be something subtle, like the smell of their shampoo, or it could be something obvious, like the stench of their sweat.

Over the years he had learnt to separate their smells and track them individually—just like a dog. He especially loved the smell of fear that was produced when they knew they were being followed—hunted. Even with their distinctive scents, some still gave him trouble to track: Like twins for example, their scent was usually quite similar it was confusing. And then there were people with abilities.

Sometimes it could be incredibly easy to track people with abilities, but other times it could be the most painstaking and arduous thing he could ever do—though for some reason, extremely satisfying. He remembered this one girl with abilities back when he was captured; he had smelt her as he was being dragged away. She stunk of electricity. She would be impossible to track; he could smell electricity in buildings, in power lines.

The two people he really wanted to track were also impossible to find. They were brothers, so their scents were similar. But one of the brother's scents completely overpowered the other's. During the day they were impossible to find, but during the night it was fair game. The brother stank of sunlight; it oozed from every pore and stung the man's sensitive nose. During the day, the sun was everywhere, but during the night, the brother's scent acted as a beacon—a lighthouse of sorts.

He had to wait for them to come back here, back to Primatech where they had escaped without him. He knew they'd come back. He knew that the vault would be too big an opportunity for Sophie to pass up. It didn't matter what they took, as long as they took something from the people who had put them away.

He could wait for them, he was patient; he had waited seven years for an opportunity and had taken it when it arrived.

And when those brothers did come, they had better hope they saw him before he saw them. The man let out a throaty laugh. He never used to be an animal, but The Company had changed him, tortured him into what he was today. The thought made his animal-like eyes light up with amusement.

He truly was a beast now.


	8. Chapter 8: When Wills Collide

_Monica Dawson, New Orleans._

The wind pulled against Monica's hood, threatening to pull it off her head. She reached up a hand and pulled it firmly back into place. Her remaining hand was positioned lightly on top of a roof beam barely wide enough for her toes to fit on it. She was examining the street below her position intently. She knew that those gang kids sometimes came around here; she had seen them on one of her other night time wanderings.

The moon filled the street with faint light, more than enough for Monica's eyes to adjust to the dark and see perfectly. She could see the graffiti to the brick walls of houses and buildings. She could see cars missing tires and rims. She could see the garbage littering the street. She hated seeing the city like this.

Trauma had changed her, when she was dressed like this and when her muscles ignored her brain she was an entirely different person. She thought differently, saw things with greater clarity and indifference. It was the only way she didn't feel guilty about this thing she was doing. She never killed though. She was not ready to cross over into that area of moral greyness and she knew that she never would. If Micah ever found out that she killed someone, he'd look at her differently and that would be something she couldn't take.

Her eyes trailed across the street, looking for every nook and cranny she could utilise if she needed a quick decent. There were plenty to be found, some only a few inches wide. It didn't matter how small they were, it wasn't like she was going to be standing to them.

Her head snapped around as a pair of bright lights suddenly screeched around the street corner. She smiled softly. Yesterday night she had encountered someone who had been mugging another. In an effort to stop her attack, he mentioned a drug trade that was going to happen. She let him go in exchange for this information—of course without the items he obtained from the mugging.

She watched as a van turned around the corner into the street and parked at the end. The headlights remained on and the engine running. Several gun-wielding gang members piled out of the van, standing in front of it and watching the other end of the street.

Monica smiled and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, quickly dialling 911 and holding the phone to her ear. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a pair of headlights lighting up the other side of the street—probably the drug dealer. Who else would be here at nearly exactly three in the morning?

"Yes, hello?" Monica hissed into her phone as the emergency hotline woman picked up. "There's some kind of drug deal taking place on Franklin Street. I can see it out of my window. There are people there, with guns! Please hurry!" Monica hung up the phone and replaced it in her zip-up pocked next to her Ipod. Either way, this deal was going to go south.

On the other side of the street, a black SUV pulled up and several men wearing suits climbed out. They all held guns but only one of them carried a metal suitcase filled with their precious cargo.

"You got the drugs?" One of the gang members called from their side of the street.

"You got the money?" The man holding the metal suitcase responded.

The gang member gestured and one of the others pulled out a similar suitcase from the van.

Monica tensed and rose slightly on her toes, she had mapped her route down and her muscles were tingling in anticipation. She had complete faith in her body to carry her through. The very first time she had been nervous, but now she was coolly-confident and calm.

As the two leaders stepped towards the middle of the street with their suitcases held tightly, the gang members and the suit-wearing men raised their guns and pointed them at each-other. It was a deadly Mexican Standoff, but also necessary for protection in this town where treachery went hand-in-hand with promise. When she attacked, they would be too busy shooting at each other to notice her movements.

As the two leaders met in the centre of the street, Monica sprang into action. In one powerful leap, she cleared the distance across the street and landed on a low window-still. As soon as she landed she was off again, jumping towards the men in suits.

Her sudden movements were too fast for the men to react, her appearance too concealed for them to distinguish where she was.

The first man fell when a powerful kick landed between his legs, causing her to writhe in pain. His gun fell from his hands and was swooped up by Monica's gloved fingers. In one continuous movement, Monica struck out, pistol-whipping the man beside the fallen one across the head.

Before he even hit the ground, Monica was gone, running up and across walls and rooftops towards the other side of the street. Confusion was her friend in situations like this. The leaders exchanging goods in the middle of the street began to run back the moment they noticed the two men hit the ground.

Monica leapt from the wall and ground her knee into the gang leader's back, sending him heavily onto the ground. The suitcase went flying and skidded across the road, eventually coming to a rest by the curb.

Monica drew her arm back and tossed the pistol in her hand at one of the gang members who was moving his gun towards her. The pistol struck his gun and caused his finger to involuntarily squeeze the trigger.

The shot rang through the street, immediately snapping everyone else out of their stupor. That's when all hell broke loose.

Monica's instinctive muscles moved faster than her brain could ever form commands. The sound of gunfire echoed through the streets, accompanied by harsh cries of pain when someone was hit by a bullet.

She sprang up the wall, moving from ledge to ledge until she was on top of the roof. Over the gun fire she could hear sirens closing in on the street and flashing red and blue lights that were moving through the labyrinth of streets which made up this section in the city.

She watched as the fire fight suddenly stopped as both parties heard the sound of approaching sirens and began to scatter, leaving their fallen comrades behind. Monica waited and watched from her position on the roof as the police arrived on the scene and began pursuing the scattering men.

It could have been hours before Monica finally moved again. Her eyes met one of the police officer's as he was cuffing the man Monica had kicked between the legs. She turned around and began to run across the roof, ignoring shouts for her to stop.

Eventually the shouts stopped following her as she moved across the streets of New Orleans as skilfully and masterfully as a thief in the night.

* * *

_Bob Bishop and Lily Miles, Bob's office, Hartsdale._

Bob had taken the news of the car accident far too well. His eye hadn't twitched, concern hadn't shown in his eyes behind his pair of glasses. He just stared at Lily as she told him the news she had heard from another Company agent—news that she shouldn't have to be telling him.

Bob hadn't known that Elle had rescued Mohinder, Molly and Maya from Sylar back on Reed Street. And when she told him, he hadn't been proud of Elle's accomplishment that day; instead he had been openly angry that she had failed to capture Sylar. Lily didn't understand why Bob was so angry at Elle; Elle had made the same decisions and actions any other Company agent would have made—it was something Bob had always reprimanded Elle for not doing before and now that she was actually doing it, he was angry.

"I've sent another agent to the hospital to hide the knowledge of any abilities that may come into the public eye." Lily said formally. Her position in The Company had been to smooth over conflicts and mistakes caused by other agents—or cover up situations that had changed unforeseeably and were threatening to expose The Company. Right now she was in-charge of smoothing over the mess Sylar had caused with the crash. It was Sylar's fault—circumstances had proven that—but Bob didn't think so, Lily could tell by his emotions that he blamed Elle for this mess—his own daughter.

"And what about my daughter?" Bob asked dispassionately, staring at Lily with his pair of calculation eyes.

"Our agent at the hospital has reported that she's been critically injured and is currently in a coma. There is a very strong chance that she might succumb to her injuries." Lily paused before continuing. "With your permission, I would like to use the last of Claire Bennet's blood to revive Elle."

"That's out of the question." Bob said. "We have next-to-nothing left, not even half a vial. It is to be kept safe until a real emergency arises."

"This is a real emergency!" Lily shouted, all semblance of control and formality leaving her as soon as Bob's words reached her ears. "She's your daughter and your willing to let her die over some blood?!"

"Calm down, Miss Miles." Bob ordered. "I have made my decision about this! Claire's blood is to be kept safe and not used on my daughter!"

Lily bristled and forced herself to contain the emotion in her voice. Even so, she deliberately left clear traces of anger, letting Bob know that she thought he was a fool. "After the accident, Sylar disappeared off our radar. It is my belief that he has left New York."

"And why do you believe that?" Bob asked, ignoring the anger in Lily's tone.

"Because he hasn't come looking for any of the people he wanted—Maya Herrera, Mohinder Suresh, Molly Walker, your _daughter_." She laid a deliberate emphasis on daughter. Bob ignored her innuendo and gestured for her to continue. "I believe that he has found another target or targets for him to pursue. I also believe that all of this could have been prevented if you had not made some of the quick decisions you made. You screwed up, Bob. Monumentally!"

"And what would you have done instead?" Bob said. He completely calm in the face of Lily's anger, her outburst hadn't affected him at all.

Lily took a deep breath. "Well first off: I would never have sent one of our most capable agents off to Costa Verde to kill Claire Bennet. I would have sent him to bring her here, not kill her! Now that agent is off the map and we have no way of contacting him. Secondly: I would never have left Mohinder unguarded in the first place. I told you that I should have been there with him, but you said you needed me here in case Dean had a meltdown. And right now, I would inject Elle with that last little bit of Claire's blood because we need as many agents out there as we can. Sophie is gathering the other eleven and we need agents ot there to stop here!"

Bob stood bolt upright in his chair. Lily didn't think she had seen him so angry before. "What do you know about that?!" His voice thundered.

Lily stood there defiantly, letting him know that she wasn't afraid of his anger or be intimidated by it. "Not much, all I know is that Owen and Steven Pierce escaped from Primatech a week ago and that Knox escaped after Peter and Adam Monroe broke in. I know that you've ordered the vault to be emptied and its items hidden. And I know that Sophie is recruiting the others we failed to capture all those years ago."

"Have you told anyone?" Bob's voice had turned deathly calm, this served to intimidate Lily more than any amount of yelling could.

"No. I thought it would be better that way. It would cause a panic if people knew that they were uniting. Better only a handful of people know so that we can deal with this in the shadows before it comes under the spotlight."

"Then you'll keep it in the shadows. I am dealing with that situation."

Lily scoffed. "I see that. It must be very tiring looking at that computer screen all day."

"I am sick of your impudence and constant insubordinations, Lily. You have a job to do and I expect you to do it! Go back to the hospital and smooth over this situation. Have I made myself clear?!"

"Crystal!" Lily said angrily, spinning around and stomping out of Bob's office.

When she closed the door began to stride down the hall, she was greeted by a man wearing a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. He was waiting outside Bob's office and looked like he had heard Lily's argument with Bob.

"What the hell do you want, Noah." Lily said, not even missing a step as she strode through the familiar halls of Hartsdale. "I've got a job to do."

"I heard." Noah stated, falling into step next to her. "And I want to help."

"Smooth things over at the hospital? I thought things like that were beneath a bag-and-tagger like you."

"Not that. I want to help with what you're really planning to do." Noah said, looking at Lily knowingly.

"And what do you think I'm really planning on doing?" She could play this word game too.

"You plan on stealing Claire's blood." Noah said.

Lily stopped walking and turned to face him. "I knew there was a reason why Bob wanted you back with The Company." She said with a faint smile on her face. "Why do you want to help me?"

"I just want the chance to defy Bob. He forced me back into this mess and blackmailed me. But that's beside the point; you _are_ right on your points. Bob can barely make decisions in a tight situation. It's why people like Linderman originally ran The Company's operations and why Bob just handled the accounts."

"I suppose the fact that Elle reminds you of Claire isn't coming into play?" Lily said as she continued to walk.

Noah looked at her, his eyes full of amusement. "Are you sure you can't read minds too?"

Lily laughed. "I can tell by your emotions. Sometimes they can be just as clear as words. Other times, not so much. It's the same with everyone."

Noah nodded in understanding. Lily glanced at him sideways and dipped into his emotions. On the outside he was completely calm, but on the inside, his emotions were in pandemonium: Anger, hatred, grief, worry. It was a cocktail of emotions all bottled up inside him. It wouldn't take much for that bottle to break and let everything run free.

"I can help you, if you want." Lily said. When Noah looked at her questioningly, she elaborated. "With your emotions, they're all bottled up. I can help."

"So you've finally learnt to ask first, have you?" Noah said. "As for your offer, my answer is no."

Lily shrugged indifferently. "Well when that cocktail bursts, don't say I didn't try to help."

Noah didn't reply, instead turning around the corner that led towards the Hartsdale Laboratories. Lily turned the corner with him, trying to force her own unruly emotions back down. The only reason she had even offered to manipulate Noah's was so she didn't have to dwell on her own. Her anger was slowly bubbling away and was being replaced by cheerfulness. The thrill of disobeying Bob was something that she didn't feel often.

They came to a halt outside of the laboratory doors. Lily quickly punched her access code into the keypad and watched as the red light flashed green, unlocking the door.

"Ladies first." Noah said as he pulled open the door.

Lily smiled and nodded in thanks as she walked in ahead of Noah. The laboratory was full of workers, each one consumed by their own tasks. It was doubtful that anyone else would notice two extra people walking through.

"Bob's keeping Claire's blood in the room where they used to store the virus strains." Lily explained as she and Noah walked through the crowded laboratory. "There really is only a small amount left. Quite a lot was used in reviving you. Then Mohinder had two vials with him and Dean took one with him when he went to kill your daughter—she's fine by the way." Lily added quickly. "Dean's gone, but you've already heard about that. I don't think he even would have done it anyway—but then again, I was surprised when I heard that Mohinder shot you, so…" She trailed off as they reached the room containing the last of Claire's blood.

"Aren't you worried at all about what Bob's going to do when he finds out we've done this." Noah asked suddenly, looking down at Lily calculatingly.

Lily shrugged and shook her head. "I dunno, not really." She said as she pushed the door open and walked inside. "I mean, what can he really do to me? Kill me? Kick me out of The Company?"

"I don't think that Bob would be foolish enough to do that." Noah said as he followed Lily into the small, dimly-lit room. "He needs you here and as many other people as possible."

Lily nodded and opened the door to a small refrigerator standing alone on the other side of the room. She quickly glanced around inside and pulled out a small vial not even half-filled with blood. "Damn!" Lily exclaimed. "I knew there was only a little left but… Do you think it'll still work?"

"Probably," Noah said, taking the vial from Lily's hand. "It's bound to do something at least."

They both started when a loud tap sounded at the door. Lily turned around and groaned when she noticed one of the lab technicians's watching them suspiciously.

"What are you two doing?" The technician asked. "This room is off limits. Mr. Bishop personally informed us three days ago."

Lily sighed and walked up to the technician, placing a big, seductive smile on her face. "Truly?" She said as she began to dip into the technician's emotions, feeling for that place she had discovered back when she was sixteen. She hated doing this to people and she always refrained from doing it unless she had no other choice. "I never heard about that."

She smiled as a red flush appeared just above the technician's collar, slowly creeping up his neck and towards his cheeks.

"Oh…ah…then I suppose I can let you off this once." The technician stammered, looking extremely uncomfortable. "Just make sure you leave soon." With that he turned around and left, walking quickly and somewhat awkwardly.

Lily turned back to Noah and let the smile fall from her face. She noticed his raised eyebrow and gave him a brief explanation. "I found out a long time ago that I could manipulate pheromones too. Bob forbade me from doing it when he found out. It makes people really uncomfortable when it gets used on them. You know flustered and awkward." Lily hung her head guiltily. "Now I have to feel bad for that guy too!"

Noah chuckled and bent back down to close the refrigerator. He paused and frowned when something at the back of the top shelf caught his eye. "I thought these were all destroyed by Mohinder."

Lily frowned and bent down to see where Noah was pointing. There were several dozen thin tubes filled with clear liquid. On every label it contained the same word and numbers. "'Strain ninety-four'," Lily read aloud and leaned back, turning to face Noah. "They _were_ all meant to be destroyed. I was there when they destroyed the strains—back when your daughter was about to expose The Company."

Noah stood up and closed the fridge. "We can deal with this later. Let's finish what we started and save Elle's life!"

Lily nodded and followed Noah out of the room and back into the lab, passing the very technician she had made so uncomfortable before. She turned slightly and looked back at the small room. The presence of the virus again was making her nervous and the presence of that one type of strain seemed signify only one thing in her mind: Bob had finally found and manufactured a strain the worked the way he always wanted. Now Lily had something to fear for her insubordination. Bob might very well take away the thing that she loved more than anything else.

For the first time in a long time, Lily suddenly felt very cold and very afraid.


	9. Chapter 9: A Brave New World

A/N: Okay, I'm just here to explain the focal character changes I've just decided on and posted on my summery. Only _this_ segment of the fic features the entire ensemble characters, while segments two and three will feature the spotlight returning and focusing on the prequel's focal characters: Peter, Elle and my OC, along with some other characters occasionally taking the spotlight--like Claire and Matt for example. And the OC MIGHT dip off the map for a little while... Now please forgive my ever-rambling mind and enjoy this latest chapter. :)

* * *

_Caitlin McKenna and Dean Matthews, Dublin_

"What did you do?" Caitlin asked as she watched the steady Dublin traffic through the hospital room's window.

"I didn't do anything!" Dean exclaimed defensively. He let out a loud sigh and shook his head. "This is what I get for trying to help someone: stuck in a crazy future that's changing around us."

"Things are _changing_." Caitlin emphasized. "Can you blame me for thinking that you're the one doing it?"

Dean just looked at her and frowned. "As a general rule, I don't like to mess with the Space/Time Continuum—okay, I made the rule up about forty-five minutes ago, but I'm still gonna stick by it. I just want to get back to our time and leave it the hell alone."

Caitlin stared at Dean as though she was looking at a crazy person. "Do you even know how to get back?" She asked, causing Dean to shrug unconcernedly.

"It can't be that hard. Click my heels three times, maybe jump down a rabbit hole."

"Is this really the time for jokes?" Caitlin said. "We could be stuck here!"

"We don't even know where _here_ is." Dean said calmly. "Things changed, Caitlin. Not even ten minutes ago, this place was a virus-filled wasteland. Something happened and I don't know what."

"But you can get us back, right?" Caitlin asked worriedly.

Dean hesitated. "…I… I dunno. I hope so. I haven't done anything like this before, not even close." He furrowed his brow in deep thought. "I've been thinking about how to get back and I think the only reason I haven't been able to is because you're here—thanks for that by the way. I have no idea why or how this place changed but frankly I don't really care, it's not like we have to deal with the virus crap anymore, right?"

Caitlin shrugged. "I don't know. I can barely wrap my head around the idea that time travel is possible! I mean, aren't you at all curious about what will happen to you?"

Dean frowned and looked at her strangely. "Not really, chances are I'll still be doing what I've always done: Working for the people who track people like me."

"Is that why you were in Cork?" Caitlin said. "I remember you saying you were looking for the woman who killed my brother."

Dean visibly froze and suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, about that; I really hope you learn to let go of the past." He said evasively. "People like me and the woman who killed your brother don't think about life the same way you do?"

"How do you think about then?" Caitlin asked curiously.

"People are put into two categories: Those who help and those who stand in your way. I heard a lot about what happened in Cork later on. Your brother lied to the woman about Peter, so she killed him. It's that simple."

Caitlin's mouth opened slightly, she didn't think she had ever met somebody who thought of people in that way. "What about reasoning—motives?" Caitlin argued. "Do you even think about _why_ they're standing in your way? Maybe they're the one's doing the right thing?"

"Maybe," Dean shrugged indifferently. "But when you've been with the people I work with for more than a few years, you'll find that morality loses its meaning and that reasoning is lost in the wind. Its better that way, it's easier to see things in grey than in black and white. It makes doing cruel things bearable. I used to think like you, but I changed. I kill and feel nothing, I torture and feel nothing. I couldn't have done those things if I wasn't the way I am now."

"It just mean's you've lost what makes you human, Dean."

That comment made Dean freeze and look at her thoughtfully. Caitlin could tell that he had never thought of that before. "Humanity's overrated." Dean said in response, his tone telling Caitlin he didn't want to talk about that subject any more. "Let's go. I'm going to try and get us out of here, Caitlin. Just don't blame me if it doesn't work."

Caitlin watched as Dean held out his hand for her. Caitlin nodded and smiled, reaching out and grasping Dean's hand.

He smiled back and closed his eyes. His brow furrowed and his face shook but the effect he was trying for was immediate. Caitlin felt the world shift and the small hospital room disappeared.

When the shifting stilled, Caitlin looked around the new environment with wide-eyes. They were in the middle of a darkened street Caitlin didn't recognise. It looked like the environment of a town. She could faintly see a river running along in the distance. People shuffled across the pavement, ignoring Dean and Caitlin's sudden appearance. They all seemed sorrowful and withdrawn and the tension that hung in the air could almost be smelt.

"Where are we?" Caitlin asked Dean. She turned to face the man and saw him breathing heavily and wiping his mouth. Caitlin thought she saw some blood on the side of his fist. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Dean insisted as he wiped his hand on his jacket. "And we're in Hartsdale, not too far from the place I live, I think. But something is definitely different though."

"What?"

"I… I dunno… I guess everything just seems too solemn—" He cut off as a bright light flashed into his eyes.

'What are you two doing?" A man asked from the sidewalk. By his uniform, Caitlin assumed he was a cop. He certainly had the authority that came with being an officer of the law. "Don't you know it's dangerous out here? Curfew's in less then fifteen minutes!"

Dean raised a hand to protect his eyes from the harsh glare of the police officer's flashlight. "I'm sorry. We've been out of town for a while. What curfew?"

The cop flicked off his flashlight and approached them, frowning at Dean's ignorance. "You look familiar." He said after examining Dean's face. "Where have you been?"

"Just out, you know a very long and extended honeymoon of travelling the world." He said as he hooked his arm through Caitlin's and pulled her close. "But now we're back to settle down." He smiled widely and surprisingly convincingly.

The cop frowned and looked at Caitlin. She smiled her own smile and let Dean do the talking.

"We haven't been here for a while," Dean lied, "and we haven't heard of a curfew either. What's happened?"

The cop accepted Dean's explanation without a second thought, turning his flashlight off and tucking it back into his belt. "The curfew's there for your safety; there are these people out there, murderers, rapists and arsonists; they caused all of New York to go into a state of emergency back in 2008 and we still haven't come out of it. That's why we have the curfew, nobody's allowed out without a pass after seven o'clock in the evening. I'm sure you should have heard of it, when'd you say you got back?"

"Just today actually," Dean answered, "the things you miss, right?"

The cop nodded and frowned. "You really do look familiar, what did you say your name was?"

"Oh, it's Matthew Parker and this is Caitlin." Dean said as he gestured to Caitlin.

The cop nodded but still looked at Dean suspiciously. "Okay, you two. Move along."

As the cop turned away, Dean stepped forward. "Hey…ah…wait. What date is it?"

"May twenty-second, 2009. Were you two honeymooning under a rock or something?"

Caitlin felt her jaw drop and an expression of astonishment appeared on her face. Another year! Dean had brought them another year into the future!

"Thanks." Dean said, managing to keep the grin on his face despite his shock.

The cop just shook his head and left the pair, disappearing around a corner and losing himself in the streets.

Dean turned back to Caitlin and swore angrily. "Another year; damn it!" He stamped his foot against the ground. "I don't know what the hell went wrong. I thought of home and we arrived here!"

"Well this technically is your home." Caitlin said, feeling a smile creep on her face as she watched Dean rant. "You mustn't have been specific enough or something."

"This is pissing me off. Come on, I'm trying it again." Dean grabbed Caitlin's hand and closed his eyes. Suddenly he doubled over in pain, his hand flying to his mouth as his body was racked with a coughing fit. "Damn, not again. I thought they fixed this!" He muttered.

"Dean, what's happening?!" Caitlin asked as she bent down beside him. She immediately noticed blood staining his lips and the fist he had used to cover his coughs.

"I can't teleport. I've strained myself too hard." He managed to stand upright and grumbled something under his breath. "I thought this happened when I changed, not like this." He laughed, causing him to lapse into another coughing fit. "They got it wrong!"

"They got what wrong?" Caitlin asked worriedly.

"We need help." Dean said as he broke into a dizzy walk, wiping his mouth again and removing flecks of blood. "I know a place where we can wait until I'm fit again."

Caitlin only nodded and followed Dean, ready to steady him if he fell. He really did look tired and haggard. He looked like he had gone through hell; he looked a lot worse then when they were back in Ireland and that hadn't been too long ago at all.

She began to fear that the person who was probably her last chance back home might die before he could get them back.

* * *

_Noah Bennet and Lily Miles, Roosevelt Hospital, New York.__ Present Day._

The sight of Elle lying comatose on the bed didn't spark any emotion aside from pity. The blonde had her hair pulled out of her face and a bandage wrapped around her forehead where she had connected with the windscreen. The rest of her body was layered by cuts and abrasions. She could have been called a warning to people who didn't wear their seatbelts.

Lily noticed that the cast that had been used to restrict her gunshot wound had been removed and the wound had been inspected and probably documented by the hospital and already passed onto NYPD. It was just another mess that Lily had to clean up later. It was something she didn't mind doing though, it was necessary.

"I checked." Noah's voice sounded from the entrance of the hospital room. "No one's going to be disturbing you."

Lily nodded and smiled, sweeping a strand of dark hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. She reached across to Elle's bedside table and picked up a syringe she had stolen from one of the drawers in the room.

She quickly filled the syringe with Claire's blood with experienced and careful hands. When the syringe was filled with the little blood the vial had to offer. Lily pressed the needle of the syringe at the crook of Elle's elbow.

She hesitated as she suddenly felt an emotion come from the unconscious girl. It was so faint, Lily almost didn't catch it, but she immediately knew what it was. It was the emotion she felt in every person, no matter what else they happened to be feeling at the time: Fear.

Lily delved deeper into Elle's emotions. Over the years, Lily had learnt that emotions could paint a clearer picture of somebody than anything else could. Underneath Elle's fear, emotions such as anger and hate were faintly recognisable. It was a combination that often emerged in nightmares.

Lily pulled out of Elle's emotions and held the syringe ready above Elle's clearly visible vein. She pushed the syringe into the blonde's vein and injected her with Claire's blood. The red fluid was forced into Elle's bloodsteam until there was nothing left in the syringe.

She pulled the syringe out and placed it back on the beside table along with the empty vial. For a moment Lily feared that it hadn't worked and that she had wasted the last of the Company's stock. She felt a grin break out on her face as Elle's heart monitor showed that the blonde's heart was beating stronger.

Lily pulled back the dressing on Elle's gunshot and watched as the half-healed wound closed over until nothing was left but pale, unblemished skin.

She stepped back and nodded to Noah who was watching from the door. He nodded in return and set off to find the agent Lily had planted in the hospital. they had planned this on their trip here and they had both agreed on their tasks now and their roles after this was done.

Lily pulled a chair from across the room and sat next to Elle's bed, watching the blonde as her injuries slowly healed. She accessed her ability and began to smooth over Elle's emotions, slowly dissipating the fear and making sure she was calm inside.

Elle's eyes slowly flickered open and Lily felt confusion fill her.

"What's…? What's going on?" Elle asked haltingly. "Where am I?"

Lily leaned forward. "What do you remember last?" She demanded.

Elle glanced at her then closed her eyes. "I remember… I remember going into daddy's office to look for my files… and…" Elle's eyes flew open and she looked at Lily wide-eyed. "I remember Sylar taking Suresh hostage and I fought him off."

Lily nodded and manipulated the fear out of Elle's body, keeping her calm and steady. "There was a crash a few days ago. Sylar flipped your car. You went through the windshield, Elle."

"I… I remember." Elle said quietly, waiting for a moment as she felt Claire's small amount of blood travel through her body, healing her cuts and giving her strength. She narrowed her eyes and looked at Lily suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice to me? You don't like me."

"Maybe not, but I certainly don't hate you, Elle." Lily said. "I wasn't going to let you die. Not when I need you to do something for me."

"And here comes the quid-pro-quo." Elle muttered. "What do you want? Just tell me so I can say no."

"It can wait till Noah gets back and you're fully recovered. But I can tell you that you'll be gone from this hospital by tonight. And I don't think you'll say no either, you won't want to do it, but you will anyway."

Elle just sighed and settled comfortably back in her pillows. "If I have to do it, it better be something fun then." She looked downcast for a moment. "I was having nightmares, Lil. Bad ones too—the worse I've ever had."

"I know." Lily replied soothingly. She was startled by Elle's use of the pet-name she had been given. She hadn't heard it in years.

"Everyone was dead: You, daddy, Suresh, Dean, Claire, Peter, everyone. There was this woman who controlled the nightmares who showed me how they all died and told me it was my fault. She said her name was Sophie and that she was going to show me these things until the day I die."

Lily noticed a tear slip down Elle's cheek. She must have been terrified. "Talk to me about it, Elle and I'll make it go away."

Elle shook her head, ignoring Lily's words of comfort, she didn't even give any indication she had heard Lily. "It was like a list of who's going to be killed and when _and_ how. And she was showing me it and calling me number one."

Lily felt fear rising in her own chest. Elle was telling the truth, she could tell by her emotions that the electrifying blonde believed the nightmares would eventually come true. "Talk to me Elle! In the dreams, how did you die?"

Elle breathed deeply and answered Lily in a shaky voice.

"It was Sylar. He kills me."

* * *

_Caitlin McKenna and Dean Matthews, __Hartsdale, New York, 2009._

"So these people are the ones who sent you to Ireland in the first place." Caitlin asked as she followed Dean through a deserted Hartsdale road. They had turned into this street a little while ago and Dean insisted that it led to a building. After a few minutes of walking, Caitlin could finally see it in the distance.

"Yeah," answered Dean, "they'll understand that we need to get back… I hope. If they can't, we'll just have to wait a little longer until my body recovers."

"About that, do you know what's happening with your ability?"

"Nope, no clue at all."

"But it's your ability!" Caitlin persisted.

"And what a pain in the ass it's being."

Caitlin shook her head and settled into a gloomy silence. The last thing she wanted to do was go to where Dean was taking her, but what choice did she have? It was either seek out help from the people who employed the girl who killed Ricky, or go off on her own and be stuck in this future. Despite Dean's promise that they would probably be there a day at the most, she remained uneasy about the entire situation.

"Hey, Caitlin." Dean said suddenly, stopping and turning around to face her. "What you said back in Dublin, about me losing my humanity. What did you mean?"

Caitlin paused and looked at Dean in surprise; he had the look of a child who had been told something they didn't fully understand. "You said you didn't feel anything when you killed or tortured people. Humans are meant to feel emotion: Sympathy, guilt, even if it's just a little bit. It's what makes us, well, human."

Dean processed her words thoughtfully. "I think I do feel them, but I just ignore it. I have this friend—well more of an acquaintance, actually—and she always used to say that if you keep pushing emotion away, it'll build up and overcome you. It even happened to this agent back when I was sixteen. There was this man named Claude Raines—he was a brilliant agent, he taught me how to pull out my abilities when The Company took me in—he was terminated because he hid one of us 'specials'. My acquaintance said that he pushed away emotion until it finally spilled out."

"Maybe you need to stop ignoring it then?" Caitlin advised.

"Maybe." Dean replied thoughtfully. He then surprised Caitlin by staring her straight in the eyes and saying: "You know I'm gonna get us out of this right? I'm not going to leave you here."

"I know, Dean." Caitlin smiled.

Dean nodded and continued to walk. Caitlin increased her pace until she was walking right beside her. It wasn't long until they reached what Dean said was the Hartsdale branch of The Company.

It was separate from the rest of the town and looked like it had been abandoned. It was completely dark through the windows. Caitlin noticed that some of the windows on the ground floor had been smashed. But aside from those instances, the building looked completely normal.

"This is where you live?" Caitlin asked sceptically. "It looks deserted."

Dean didn't answer immediately, instead jogging forward towards the front door. "I think it is deserted." He finally said, gesturing for Caitlin to join him.

"Then how are we going to get help?"

"I dunno, but right now it doesn't matter. Remember there's a curfew. If we get caught outside it will lead to questions that we can't answer and eventually prison."

Caitlin sighed as Dean pushed open the main door and emerged into the building's foyer.

It was surprisingly clean and tidy for a deserted building, Caitlin instantly decided. If anything it looked like people were still living here. She squinted through the faint light and tried to see anything that looked remotely like a person.

"Stay close." Dean whispered to her. "This is a surprisingly big place; it's pretty easy to get lost in here."

Caitlin nodded and was surprised and more than a little relieved when Dean slipped his hand into hers. He gave it a comforting squeeze and led her towards a stairwell right next to an elevator.

They climbed the stairs in silence. This entire environment was giving Caitlin the jitters; it reminded her too much of all those old, clichéd haunted house horror movies.

They had just finished climbing the flights of stairs and had just headed out into the floor Dean claimed the laboratory was on when Caitlin caught a glimpse of flashing metal, metal that looked unsettlingly like a knife.

"Dean!" She shouted urgently.

Dean spun around swiftly and hissed in pain as the knife that had been heading for his shoulder instead sliced a shallow gash across his forearm.

Caitlin stepped back, her moth wide-open in shock as she watched Dean grab the knife wielder's arm and try to force the weapon out of the person's grip. They struggled for a few seconds, more then enough time for Caitlin to get a clear glimpse of the attacker.

She immediately knew it was a woman, judging by her small frame and length of blonde hair. Caitlin could see fear framing the blonde woman's face as it twisted with effort. She had reacted out of fright and the desire to survive more than anything else that could motivate her to such actions.

"Stop! Stop it!" Caitlin yelled at Dean. She was surprised when he ignored her shouts and finally managed to wrench the knife from the blonde woman's hand with a sickening twisting gesture.

The woman gasped in pain as the sudden movement broke three of her fingers. Her shock only lasted a moment before she leapt at Dean again, desperately grabbing at the knife.

Dean stumbled back, being caught off guard by the blonde's second unexpected attack. He did the only thing someone with his life-experience and training taught him to do instinctively. Without thought or hesitation, Dean steadied and drove the knife into the blonde woman's body.

The blonde woman gasped in pain and then crumpled against Dean, looking up at him accusingly.

Breathing heavily from his exertion, Dean pushed the blonde woman back and removed the knife. Blood dripped in thick red drops off of the knife, spreading with the other blood that was streaming from the woman's stab wound.

Caitlin watched in shock as Dean seemed to recognise the woman. "Oh no," he said as the knife hung loosely from his fingers.

Caitlin's eyes widened as the blonde woman gasped and choked, lifting her head to watch the stab wound heal through the rip the knife had made in her sweatshirt.

"You stabbed me!" The woman said accusingly to Dean as she sat up and began to snap her broken fingers back into place with a sickening crunch. "And you broke my fingers!"

"Claire?" Dean said in astonishment. "What the hell are you—?"

"I should be the one asking _you_ that!" Claire Bennet cut across him. "What the hell are you doing coming from the ground floor? You said you were going to use the roof when you got back, not the front door. You nearly gave me a heart attack! I thought they had found us!"

Dean just stared in complete astonishment and Caitlin knew that the same thought running through his head was running through hers: What the hell is going on here?


	10. Chapter 10: Hunters and the Hunted

_Steven and Owen Pierce, Outside Primatech Paper, Odessa, Texas._

The night was cold, so much that Steven had stolen an extra jacket from a clothing store before they had arrived here. He looked almost jealously at his brother. Owen didn't feel the cold—or rather he couldn't. It was hard to feel cold when the sun's warmth was stored in his body.

"You know what to do, right?" Steven asked his brother.

Owen rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Let out a flash when the guards are looking, then we steal the cases. I get it. I won't screw up."

"You know which ones?"

"Of course; they've only got three there." He paused and frowned. "Three strong, steel lockboxes—that we won't be able to open, I might add. Why they saved these three for last, I don't know."

"Because they're probably the least valuable; all of the good stuff would have been moved as soon as they ordered the hit on that Petrelli guy. Anyway, Sophie doesn't care what we take as long as we take something. She just wants to annoy them and taunt them 'till she can persuade some of the others to help us take them down." Steven looked up when he noticed Owen's suggesting grin? "What?"

"So, you and Sophie are close now." He implied.

"She's married, asshole." Steven retorted. "And she's more like a sister than anything else."

"Whatever you say, jackass."

"Shut up!" Steven hissed and gestured towards Primatech's main entrance. "They're here!"

As he spoke, a sleek black car pulled up by the main entrance. It looked inconspicuous and to a normal person it would probably look like any other car. The Company didn't use armoured trucks that attracted attention. They instead blended in with the crowd and avoided attention.

Just as the car slowed to a halt, Primatech's main doors opened up and the three steel lockboxes were being wheeled out by several Company workers.

"Do it." Steven ordered.

His brother nodded. "Okay. Make sure you cover your eyes though."

Steven nodded and turned around, keeping his eyes tightly closed. The last time he had seen one of Owen's flares, he had been half-blind for over a week.

He heard his brother's footsteps hit the car-park's pavement and his scornful call to the group of people wheeling the cases. "Hey, assholes! What are you doing?"

There were several shouts and soon a bright flash lit up the area. Steven heard a couple of agonised screams and then silence. He waited for the red to dull down inside his eyelids before he finally opened them and turned around.

The Primatech workers were all on the ground, most of them clutching their eyes and writhing around in pain. Owen was standing before them and looking down at them, his eyes full of contempt.

"We're good now!" He called back to Steven. "Come on!"

Steven was halfway out of his hiding place when he saw the car's door open and a man climb out holding a gun. He had obviously been lucky enough to avoid looking at Owen's flare directly, but his free hand was still rubbing his left eye furiously.

"Stop!" The man ordered as he pointed his gun at Owen.

Owen grinned widely and sunlight began to flicker to life inside of his palm. He raised his and flexed his fingers. A beam of burning, pure white light streamed from his palm and engulfed the man with the gun. The light flickered after a moment and soon died away. All that was left of the man with the gun was a charred skeleton.

Steven closed the distance between him and Owen, not even a little bit fazed by Owen's brutal kill. "Come on," he said, "grab a case and let's go before anyone else shows up."

Owen nodded and moved towards the lockboxes, stepping over one of the writhing guards. He paused and frowned, looking past Steven as he bent to pick up one of the cases.

"What?" Steven asked as he turned around to look over his shoulder.

Owen shook his head but continued to frown. "Nothing… I just thought I saw something."

Steven fully turned and glanced around. The parking lot was completely devoid of people but Steven felt his stomach twinge nervously and he had the sudden paranoid feeling that he was being watched. "Load the cases in the car." Steven ordered. "I wanna get the hell out of here."

"I'm with you on that." Owen said as he grabbed one of the cases by its handle. "Open the trunk, will you?"

Steven complied, stepping over the burnt corpse to reach into the driver's side of the car.

"So there's really nothing going on with you and Sophie?" Owen asked. At Steven's glare he continued. "I'm only say because she only goes into your—oh, shit, Steven, look out!"

Steven jerked around at the urgency in Owen's voice. Fast, heavy footsteps were sounding behind him and were only getting quicker and louder with every step. There was only one person Steven knew of who could build such momentum.

Steven immediately raised his hands and plied his ability with as much speed and force as he could muster. The pounding footsteps began to slow. He looked up and met the eyes of the footstep's source.

They were dark and had an animalistic look about them, a look that spawned from bloodlust and the desire to kill. Steven knew those eyes well, more than anyone should ever have to know them. The man's body was lean and well-muscled, though he looked sickly from years of mistreatment: Half-healed cuts and bruises, needle marks inside the crooks of his arms. He was looking at the man called Benjamin Washington—the man who was known as Knox.

"Glad to see your reflexes aren't shot after your stay at Primatech, Pierce." Knox said angrily. "And from what I saw of your little brother, neither are his."

Steven kept one hand trailed on Knox's body, making sure that the man couldn't move quickly enough to reach him. "What do you want, Knox?" He demanded, he could hear the fear clearly in his voice and by the smile that slowly appeared on Knox's face, so could he.

"Revenge." Knox said. "Word got 'round that you two escaped and left me there."

"We didn't know you were down there!"

"It doesn't matter to me. I've been waiting for the chance to kill you two idiots for seven years!" Knox's wolfish grin faded and was replaced by a look of fury. "It wasn't those bastards at The Company that got me caught. It was you and your pyromaniac brother!"

"That wasn't our fault!" Steven argued as he leant down and opened the truck of the car. "Ask Sophie, I'm sure she's been in contact with you."

"Oh, she has been. She's been trying to convince me to take down The Company with her. But as tempting as that is, I've got places to be and the only thing keeping me from them is you two."

"We're not keeping you anywhere." Owen called towards him as he took Steven's cue to load up the trunk with the cases. He did a good job of keeping the fear out of his voice and replacing it with cockiness, but it wasn't convincing enough. "You're the one with the vendetta against _us_!"

Knox moved excruciatingly slowly to face Owen, unable to move any faster thanks to Steven's ability. "And that won't be over until I rip your heart out from your chest."

Owen visibly paled as he slammed the car's trunk shut. The look quickly faded and was replaced by a cocky grin. "Let's get out of here, Steven."

Steven nodded and walked around the car, heading to the front passengers side. He had to keep his hand trailed on Knox's body for his ability to continue to work. He passed by Owen who was heading towards the open drivers door. As his brother walked past Knox, he raised a hand and placed it barely an inch from Knox's face.

"Do it and I swear I'll kill you nice and slow." Knox threatened.

"I'd like to see you try it when you're blind, Knox." Owen mocked. "I should have done this a long time ago." His fingers flexed and bright, white light flickered in his palm. Owen frowned when the light spasmed and then died down.

Knox only grinned. "I see someone's out of sunlight."

"Quit screwing around, Owen!" Steven yelled. "I can't hold him for much longer! Let's go!"

Owen snarled and leapt into the driver's seat, immediately starting the car and slamming it into gear.

"Wherever you two go, I'm going to find you!" Knox roared after them.

Steven ignored Knox's shouts and lowered his hand, allowing Knox's speed to return to normal. "You just had to rile him up, didn't you?!" He said angrily to Owen. He felt the car jerk as Owen pressed harder on the accelerator.

"I riled him up?! You were the one who was all like: 'that wasn't our fault!'"

"You tried to blind him when you didn't have any sunlight stored! You didn't even realise did you? Now he's going to follow us wherever we go!"

Owen shrugged and looked unconcerned. "Where _are_ we going anyway?"

Steven looked over his shoulder and noticed Knox following the car, walking slowly down the road. "We need to go somewhere where he'll want to stay. Find something he wants more then us."

"And where would that something be?"

"New Orleans."

* * *

_Sylar, Outside Primatech Paper, Odessa, Texas._

"That's interesting." Sylar mused to himself as he watched the brother's car speed away. He hadn't expected this, of everything that could have happened. He was pleasantly surprised at the realisation that he wasn't the only person after the brother's heads. Whoever this Knox was, the brothers certainly feared him.

He tenderly touched the half-healed sunburn that the younger brother had inflicted on him. That power held a lot more interest for him know that he had seen it in action. That flash the younger brother had unleashed had immediately incapacitated those Primatech employees's and Sylar knew that most of them wouldn't be able to see anything for the rest of their lives.

Even more than the longing for more power, Sylar felt an excitement fill his body. He wasn't the only one after the brothers and he knew that this Knox would be a difficult man to beat. This was a race, predator versus predator in a race to hunt their prey.

Sylar grinned and began to walk away from Primatech, listening to the brother's conversation inside the car. His grin widened when he picked up a location from the older brother.

"New Orleans." Sylar said to himself. This ought to be fun."

* * *

_Sophie, Washington D.C, Virginia._

She had tracked her mark all the way to this state, to this city—the place where he had been caught by the Company over fourteen years ago. She had originally thought it would have been easy to track this man—that all she needed to do was follow the trail of bodies she had been certain he'd leave. The man had apparently learnt self-restraint or he had started to clean up after himself and his serial killer urges.

She walked down a dirty hallway of the motel she had tracked him to. He had probably stolen the money to pay for the room from the body of one of his victims.

When she came to a halt outside room number nine, she raised a hand and knocked once on the door.

"What?" The killer shouted from inside the room.

"It's me, Eric. Open up." Sophie replied with a small smile on her face.

Eric swore harshly and after a moment he opened the door. "It really is you," he snarled, "and in person too. Appearing in my dreams isn't enough. You have to make my reality a nightmare too?"

Sophie only ginned at the balding killer. "Have you thought about what I told you last time?"

"Yes." Eric answered. "And the answers no; I want to be free to do what I want and not be stuck under the boot of a stuck up bitch like yourself!"

Sophie's smile faded at Eric's curse. "If you don't, I swear to you that I will put you in a nightmare right now. You know I can and I will."

Eric only smiled and stepped back, spreading his arms wide. "Come on. Do it if you can figure out which one is me." As he spoke his body shifted and multiplied and soon the small motel room was filled with multiple Eric's each one laughing at the woman in the doorway.

Sophie's grin returned and she made a gesturing movement with her hand.

Eric frowned and his clones started to vanish until it was only him inside the room. "I see you freed Alana." He said thoughtfully. "Where is the little tyke? I haven't seen her in over fourteen years."

After he finished speaking, another woman appeared in the doorway. She had been following Sophie from a small distance, waiting for Sophie to give her orders. She was totally under Sophie's thrall and did whatever the older woman said.

"Twenty-four years old." Eric cooed at the newcomer mockingly. "And I see she's in full control of her wonderful ability."

"You've denied my requests, Eric." Sophie stated. "So here's the ultimatum. If you don't help us, I'll put you in a nightmare-filled coma and slowly torture you until the day you die."

Eric grinned widely. "Well how can I deny such charm? Hell, I'm looking forward to doing something productive instead of just killing for my own amusement."

Sophie smiled. "I'll be in touch—oh and try to stay off the radar; I don't want The Company getting to you before you do what I need you to."

Eric saluted mockingly, "Whatever you say, madam."

Sophie shook her head and left the motel room, Alana walking closely behind her. She hated Eric's constant cheek but at least she could cross another name off her list. They should be fine now; Eric had all the man power that they'd ever need.

All she had to do now was find the man she needed most of all.


	11. Chapter 11: Family Ties

_Peter Petrelli, Odessa Hospital, Texas._

The first thing Peter noticed was the people: reporters, camera men, police officers, security guards; all of them packed together in the small hall. The reporters watched the stage, some holding tape recorders or scribbling rapidly in note-pads. The camera men kept their cameras steady and occasionally pressed their fingers down on the small button that lit up the hall in a quick flash of light. The police were torn, half were wearily watching the reporters while the other half were watching something just out of Peter's vision.

Peter tried to turn but he moved so slowly it felt like the world was speeding past him and leaving him far behind. His movements were sluggish but his mind was racing. Thought after thought after thought was spiralling through his head, each posing questions and reaffirming a single thought in his mind.

_This is a dream._

His surroundings shifted as the thought flashed through his head, the familiar hall and tightly packed crowds flickered before reappearing.

"This is a dream." Peter stated aloud, his producing a loud echo that didn't fit inside the hall he was seeing.

This time the effect was more pronounced—more obvious. The entire scene flickered and momentarily disappeared, revealing a landscape complete devoid of colour, shape or form, just a never-ending field of grey.

The scene flickered back into life. This time Peter wasn't standing to the side, watching as it played out in front of him. He was _in_ the scene. The restrictions on his movements were released and he was free to look around.

The first thing Peter noticed was Matt standing right beside him, looking to his left and then back to the crowd as if he wasn't quite sure where to look.

"Matt?" Peter said, trying to attract the other man's attention. "Matt!"

Matt didn't answer nor gave any indication he knew Peter was there.

Peter frowned in confusion and looked passed Matt. He almost choked when he saw his brother Nathan standing in the centre of a stage, speaking words Peter couldn't hear to the crowd. "Nathan!" Peter cried, leaping forward towards his brother. Now that he saw his brother; he remembered what had happened in this particular event. It was something that Peter had had to go through once; he didn't want to relive the experience.

"I'm dreaming." Peter said loudly. 'This is a dream, it's not really happening!" All of the old tricks about dreams were flashing through Peter's head. He remembered the one about falling and that if you hit the ground you died. He remembered the one about dying in a dream you'd wake up. He knew that if you _knew_ without a doubt that it was a dream, _you_ were in control and _you_ could wake yourself up. This, however, wasn't working. The scene didn't flicker or disappear, it just remained, playing out in front of him and he was helpless to do anything about it.

Peter felt tears spring to his eyes as the two bullets fired by Nathan's shooter streaked into his brother's chest. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and pleaded into the air. "Stop, stop it!"

"And it was just getting good too." A voice sounded from behind him.

Peter's eyes flew open and he spun around to face the voice's owner. She seemed as out of place in the environment—just as much Peter did himself. She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear and regarded him curiously.

"I've wanted to meet you for a long time Peter." The woman said. "But too bad it had to be in a dream. You know, from what I've heard about you, I expected you to be a little taller."

"Who are you?" Peter demanded. "How are you doing this?" He gestured wildly around the scene, only just realising then that it was frozen—like someone had pressed the pause button on a remote.

"My name is Sophie and _this_ isn't really happening. You're dreaming."

"Then why can't I wake up?"

"Because I'm in control here; the only borders and boundaries are the ones that I make. Of course you can wake up if you really want to, but you don't want to. You're curious about what this is."

Peter said nothing. In the distance he could hear a far-off voice calling his name, so faint he could barely hear it.

"You see, I'm curious about what happened here too." Sophie gestured behind Peter at Nathan's falling body and the crowd of people only just realising what they were seeing, their faces frozen in their expressions of shock. "I was actually hoping that Nathan would expose us for what we really are. It would have made things a lot easier; it would have forced people to choose sides. That can wait for the moment; the truth always comes out in the end."

"Who shot my brother?" Peter asked. He could feel anxiety twisting steadily in his chest; this woman could tell him everything.

"See for yourself." Sophie pointed at a man in the middle of bring something down to his side. "I didn't expect it to be him, but I wasn't surprised about it either, more angry that I didn't think of him before.

Peter turned and took a step forward; looking back at Sophie's smiling face. _Why is she helping me?_ The question flashed through Peter's head. _Is she just using me to get what she wants?_

_Mr. Petrelli!_

Peter stopped and looked up at the hall's roof. He frowned and looked back at Sophie. The woman was staring up at something he couldn't see in annoyance, it was clear she had heard it too.

"Mr. Petrelli!"

The voice was clearer this time, more insistent. It seemed to drag him away, away from Sophie, away from the frozen figure of Nathan's shooter.

"Mr. Petrelli!"

Peter jerked awake, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the now fully lit hospital room. There was a nurse standing near him, one hand reached out in a movement that was obviously meant to shake his shoulder.

The nurse breathed out and smiled. It was clear Peter had startled her by his sudden wakefulness. "Mr. Petrelli. I'm sorry to disturb you, but your mother filed your brother's transfer papers to the Roosevelt Hospital in New York this morning. We just need your signature so we can begin preparing the transfer."

Peter looked down and noticed a clipboard holding several sheets of paper and a pen held in the nurse's hands. "My mother filed a transfer?" Peter asked as he took the clipboard and pen from the nurse's outstretched hands.

"Yes." The nurse nodded in confirmation.

"She hasn't even checked in to see if Nathan's alright. She didn't even come down here to see him."

"I know that she's been calling in twice a day to check on how he's doing." The nurse shrugged. "You'll just have to ask her yourself when you get the chance."

Peter nodded and scrawled his signature in the space indicated on the transfer papers.

"Okay, thank you." The nurse nodded as she collected the transfer papers from Peter. "Sorry, I've got to get back to work. Your brother should be transferred first thing tomorrow morning if everything's in order. You're more then welcome to stay with him if you want."

Peter shook his head. "No, if you don't need me here I think I'll go ahead."

The nurse nodded. "Okay."

Peter smiled as the nurse turned around and walked out of Nathan's room, closing the door behind her. As soon as the door clicked shut, Peter stood up from the chair he had been sitting on and leaning over his brother. "I'll see you soon, man." He said softly. "I'm gonna find out who did this to you and I know someone who can help me find out. I love you, Nathan."

Peter kissed his brother's forehead and moved back, closing his eyes tightly and thinking of the Roosevelt Hospital in New York.

The effect was instantaneous. Peter felt the world shift around him as he disappeared.

* * *

_Monica Dawson, New Orleans._

Monica's eyes flickered open and she raised a hand to rub the sleep from her eyes. She let out a soft groan as her weary muscles ached from her exertions the previous night. Through her bedroom door, she could hear her family's early morning activities. She rolled over and felt sunlight hit her face, streaming through the cracks between her curtains.

Reaching out she pulled her alarm clock over to her, checking the time displayed by the red numbers. She groaned again as the movement made her muscles ached from the movement. She had another hour until she had to go to another long day at work and an even longer night prowling the streets, looking for some robbery to stop.

She forced her legs to move as she swept the covers off of her body and climbed out of bed. Every limb seemed to ache; she could barely hold herself up as her strained and weakened muscles were forced into action.

It took her a lot longer then usual for her to shower and change into her work uniform, when she was done she sat back down on her bed and breathed in deeply. She had been experiencing pains like this before but nothing nearly as intense as what she was feeling now. She figured that it was caused by her last excursion during the night; she had never used her muscles like that before, when she had arrived home, her head had barely hit her pillow before she fell asleep.

It took a great deal of effort and willpower for her to stand up from her bed and walk out of her bedroom. She walked through the hall and into the kitchen, facing the same picture she faced every morning. Micah and Damon were eating their breakfast at the table and Nana was inside the kitchen, doing whatever activity she had decided to do in the morning—today she was tomato-rose cutting again.

"Morning all." Monica said loudly as she entered the kitchen.

Micah returned her good morning with a small smile, while Damon didn't even bother to raise his head from his cereal. Nana, however, looked up from her tomato cutting and looked at Monica worriedly.

"You look tired." She stated. "Did you have another nightmare?"

Monica nodded wordlessly. As soon as she finished the action, she felt guilt build within her body. She hated being deceitful to her family.

"Are you sure you should go in to work today?" Nana asked. "You look—"

"You look like hell!" Damon exclaimed when he finally looked up from his cereal at his older sister.

"Thanks, Damon." Monica replied sarcastically. "That's what every girl hopes to hear when they get up in the morning."

"Well it's the truth!" Damon insisted as he turned back to his cereal. "They must be some nightmares."

Monica just shook her head and turned her attention back to Nana. "I'm fine, really." She insisted. "I need to keep busy anyhow."

Nana nodded but the concerned expression remained on her face. Monica looked away and turned her attention to the television playing faintly on the bench top. There was a report about the arrests Monica had triggered last night.

"It's been playing for a little while now." Nana informed her when she noticed what Monica was looking at. "It's apparently the biggest arrest since the storm."

"Really?" Monica said quietly. She glanced towards Micah and saw him watching her with a small frown on his face.

Nana nodded and began to slice her tomatos again.

The room fell into an awkward silence. The only noise that entered was the low buzz of the television and occasional noises from outside. The entire atmosphere had changed since all of this began. Everything used to be happy and carefree despite everything that had happened, but now…

Monica shook her head. "Well, I'm off to work. I'll bring dinner home again."

"Okay, have a nice day." Nana said.

Monica smiled weakly and left the kitchen. She had only just reached the front door when she heard Micah call her name. She turned around to see him jogging to catch up to her. "What's wrong?"

Micah slowed to a halt and smiled in genuine delight. "It was you, wasn't it? You went out last night, I woke up and you weren't in your bed. You were the one who helped the police catch those people."

Monica was taken aback by Micah's excited tone and for a moment, she hesitated, unsure about how to reply to him. "How did…? What makes you think that…?" She shook her head and smiled, deciding that the truth was the best course of action with him. "Yeah, it was." She said as she bent down.

"I knew it!" Micah exclaimed happily.

"Listen, you can't tell anybody!" Monica said as she placed her hands on Micah's shoulders. "This has to be kept secret!"

"I know." Micah nodded. "If people knew it was you, they would come after you here."

"You can't tell Damon either, or Nana, nobody at all. This is our secret, okay?"

Micah seemed slightly downcast for a moment, but then his face brightened once again. "I can help you! We can both be heroes!"

"No, no!" Monica insisted. "It's too dangerous out there; I don't want you to get hurt!"

"I don't mean with the fighting. I can tap into the police band so you know where to go when a crime is happening. It's better than you prowling the streets at night."

Monica hesitated. It would make things a lot easier for her. She'd have time to rest her muscles and everything. It would be better for Micah too. She didn't think she'd ever seen him look this happy and excited since he arrived in New Orleans and he needed something to keep his mind off the fact he was now an orphan.

She smiled softly. "Okay, kid. Okay."

* * *

_Elle Bishop, Roosevelt Hospital, __Manhattan._

Elle hated hospitals; that was one of the few absolute facts in her life right now. Ever since she had woken up with no visible signs of injury, the doctors had marvelled over her recovery and were regarding it as a miracle or a medical marvel. Interns had been marched in and out to see her, each one furiously taking notes dictated to them by the doctors. It must have been hours before everyone had finally been ushered out when one of Elle's doctors insisted she have her rest.

She hadn't been able to sleep; she was so full of energy it was as though someone had poured coffee down her throat. But Lily had explained that it was probably Claire's blood that was doing it. That had made Elle realise another absolute fact: Wherever she went, she was always reminded of that annoying little blonde cheerleader. Her first real assignment had to do with Claire, her father talked about Claire as though she was important—even more important then his own daughter. She had been shot while being traded for Claire. She had been healed by Claire's regenerative blood. And to Elle's deepest irritation, she was actually thankful that the cheerleader's blood was keeping her awake because the last thing she wanted to do was fall asleep. Just because she was out of her coma, it didn't mean the nightmares would stop too—another absolute fact Elle believed.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a swift knock on her hospital room's door. She looked up and saw her father open the door and close it tightly behind him.

"Elle." Bob Bishop said formally. It was always formal between them; Elle couldn't remember him ever showing her any fatherly concern. "I thought I would find you awake. I should have realised sooner that Lily would take the blood."

"So you didn't want to fix me?" Elle said. She was surprised to hear just how hurt she sounded.

Bob ignored the question and walked over to sit on the chair Lily had left beside Elle's bed. "I heard about what happened at Reed Street and I am proud of you Elle. You saved three valuable lives."

Elle sat up in surprise; she had been preparing herself for a reprimand about Sylar escaping and getting his powers back. "So you know about Sylar?" Elle asked tentatively. "I really tried, but he got away."

"I know, Elle." Bob nodded. "And at first I was furious about it. But Lily said some things and I realised she was right. It was out of your hands and you did your best in an impossible situation and that's all anyone can ask."

Elle grinned widely as she tried to ignore the fact that there was no real warmth in her father's voice. She appreciated the praise, but it no longer held the same attraction it did before that stuff Costa Verde happened.

Bob stood back up. He had clearly said everything he had wanted to say. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Elle. We need to discuss your future with this Company."

Elle just watched as her father left the hospital room, not even saying goodbye to her. The smile had completely faded from her face. She felt anger at her father's apparent lack of affection. It was another absolute fact: Costa Verde had shown Elle how a father should act. Noah had taken a bullet to the eye to protect his family from The Company and as much as Elle tried to deny it, she knew her father wouldn't do the same thing for her.

_Your father was leading the charge._ Noah's words echoed through her head as they had so many times before. As much as she wanted to deny them, Elle knew they were true—yet another absolute fact. Why else would Bob hide her files, hide the knowledge about what he had done to her.

"Sorry, daddy," Elle said. "But it's gonna be a while before we have that little talk."

* * *

_Owen and Steven Pierce, __Louisiana._

The road flashed by as Owen urged the stolen car into greater speed. He held the steering wheel with steady hands while occasionally glancing at the map his brother had managed to prop up. Steven was hunched over the smallest of the stolen lockboxes with two makeshift lock picks held firmly in his hands.

After a brief stop to steal the map and refuel the car, Steven had relocated the cases into the back seat and had made it his priority—or rather obsession—to unlock at least one of them.

Steven's face was twisted in concentration and sweat beaded across his brow. Owen knew that he wouldn't give up until he had finally unlocked the case.

"So…" Owen said suddenly, breaking the silence that had held the car for over an hour. He winced as Steven involuntarily jerked and jarred the lock he had been picking, causing all of the pins he had aligned to fall out of place.

Steven swore vehemently and slammed his fist on top of the case. "What?" He asked irritably.

Owen grinned. "How's it coming along?" He laughed at Steven's furious stare. "Relax, I'm kidding."

Steven sighed in frustration. "This has got to be the most complex lock I've ever seen!"

Owen shrugged unconcernedly. "So, explain to me again why we're going to New Orleans?"

Steven sighed and leaned back in his seat, flexing his stiffened and cramped fingers. "Again? What the hell did they do to you in Primatech? I swear, you'd forget your—"

"'Forget my head if it wasn't screwed on', yeah, yeah. But come on, explain it again."

Steven sighed again. "When Knox was captured, he was the head of a gang in New Orleans. He might leave us be so he can regain leadership there."

"Might?" Owen glanced at his brother.

"Yeah, might." Steven replied. He noticed the pale look on his brother's face. "Listen, I don't like it either, but it's the only plan we've got, so unless you've got something better…"

"No, no." Owen shook his head. "Where did you hear about this anyway?"

"Sophie." Steven said, his tone almost daring Owen to say something about his answer.

"…Sophie." Owen struggled not to smile. "No kidding."

"Shut up." Steven said as he straightened in his seat. He looked through the car window at the passing landscape and frowned slightly. "How far away are we?"

Owen shrugged, "A few hours, maybe." He sighed and glanced at his brother. "We're gonna have to wait until Knox shows up aren't we?"

"Yup," replied Steven. "Speaking of Knox, have you seen him following us?"

Owen glanced at the rear-view mirror. "Once or twice I think—but not since we left the gas station. I have seen another car though; I tried to lose it for a little while but it's stayed on us. It's about a mile back now."

Steven looked over his shoulder and through the back window. He could see the car Owen was talking about in the distance. It was clearly visible in the mid morning sun. "How do you know it's following us?"

"I don't, not really anyway. I just think it's strange."

Steven nodded in agreement. "Step on it!" He urged his brother as he twisted back around in his chair. "We need to find a place to hide before Knox gets here."

Owen complied and urged the car into greater speed.

* * *

_Mohinder Suresh and Molly Walker, Roosevelt Hospital, Manhattan._

Mohinder sat back in his chair and watched with a large smile on his face as Molly looked at her hospital breakfast in disgust.

"Do I really have to eat this?" She asked as she poked a green block that Mohinder assumed was jello with her fork. "I'd rather have something that you've made, yours actually look edible."

Mohinder's grin widened. "Thanks, Molly."

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that!" Molly corrected. "I meant—"

"I know." Mohinder laughed. "Just eat your jello and when we get out of here I'll be sure to cook whatever you want for dinner."

"I'll hold you to it." Molly promised as she poked her jello again. She looked up and a huge smile suddenly appeared on her face. Mohinder followed her gaze and sat up in surprise when he saw Matt Parkman standing in the doorway to Molly's room.

"Matt!" Molly exclaimed happily as Matt entered the room and walked towards her bed.

"Hey, Molly." Matt smiled as he pulled the girl into a hug. "How're you doing?"

"The doctors say I can go soon," reported Molly happily, "I just need to stay here for observation."

"That's good then." Matt grinned. "At least you're all right."

Mohinder stood up and walked around the bed. "Molly, I just need to speak with Matt for a moment."

Molly nodded and shrugged, releasing Matt from her tight hug. Mohinder walked out of the hospital room and closed the door once Matt had emerged out after him. "I thought you were in Texas."

"I was." Matt replied as he glanced through the glass in the door at Molly. "Then I heard you guys were in a car accident and I came straight here."

"It wasn't an accident." Mohinder stated. "It was Sylar, he's still alive Matt. He took us hostage."

Matt's eyes widened in surprise, "How did you get away?"

"It was Elle, she drove Sylar off."

"Who's Elle?"

"Oh, she's Bob's daughter. She was seriously injured in the crash but I heard she fully recovered not too long ago." Mohinder shook his head and sighed. "Sylar's back and he's recovered his abilities. The Company injected him with a strain of the virus to take them away after he was stabbed four months ago."

"Have you seen him since he took you and Molly hostage?" Matt asked urgently.

Mohinder shook his head. "Not since he caused the car crash. I don't know what he's doing. He hasn't come looking for us since then. But that's not our biggest problem at the moment. One of the doctors here knows we're lying about what happened, he knows that we were running and he's threatening to tell the police if we don't tell him what really happened."

"That won't be a problem for much longer."

Both Mohinder and Matt turned around in surprise. Noah Bennet slowed to a halt in front of them with a serious look on his face.

"We need to talk."


	12. Chapter 12: Hospital Reunions

_Noah Bennet, Matt Parkman and Mohinder Suresh, Roosevelt Hospital, Manhattan_

"We need to talk." Noah said as he came to a halt in front of Mohinder and Matt.

"Bennet?" Matt said in surprise. "The last time I saw you it was November. What are you doing here?"

"Yes, why are you here?" Mohinder added. "I thought you were in Hartsdale."

"Bob and I have an arrangement." Noah answered quickly. "But that's not important right now. Things are spiralling out of control and we need your help to fix them."

Matt frowned. "What are you talking about? What's going on?"

Noah glanced around, making sure that no one was close enough to hear them. "It's complicated…" He said. "And we're all in danger. There are a group of people we thought were gone. They are all dangerous, smart and will kill without a second thought. Its like twelve Sylar's running free."

Matt's eyebrows rose in disbelief and he immediately cast his mind out and probed into Noah's thoughts.

_You have no idea what we're up against!_ Noah's thoughts echoed inside Matt's head. _We're safe for now but not for much longer! The moment they get what they want, we'll be powerless to stop them. We'll all be dead._

"If they're so dangerous then why hasn't The Company hunted them down before?" Mohinder asked.

"We did." Noah stated. "But over the past year, most of them have escaped and disappeared. We don't know where they are or what they're planning. But it's a certainty that they _are_ planning something. It's not like them to simply leave us alone. We have to prepare for the storm before it hits."

Matt and Mohinder shared a sceptical glance. They both knew they shared the same opinion. When a man they barely trust appears and tells them that there are twelve super-powered killers on the loose, what were they supposed to think?

Matt coked his head slightly as he read Noah's thoughts. Jumbled words echoed in Matt's head, but each one indicated that Noah was telling them the truth. "What do you want us to do?" He questioned Noah.

Noah smiled and Matt would swear that a flash of relief streaked across his face. "Nothing." Noah said, causing Matt's eyebrows to rise once again.

"Nothing?" Matt exclaimed incredulously. "You came here just to warn us about them?!"

"Right now, yes. At the moment, these people are keeping to the shadows; it's most likely that they're waiting for their chance to strike at The Company's head. They want Bob dead and the Company destroyed more then anything else. All you two need to do is lay low and be sure not to attract their attention. And above all else, make sure that they don't find out about Molly. If they discover what she can do, they'll take her from you and force her to use her ability, not even you can stop them from doing that, Matt."

"Are we in danger?" Mohinder's question hung in the air, causing Noah to look at him hesitantly.

"We all are." Noah answered. "But I truly think that for the moment you have nothing to worry about. As long as you keep out of the spotlight, you won't attract their attention."

"What about you. You're planning something." It was a statement not a question.

Noah hesitated. "…It's a bad time to be a part of this Company and a lot of people are going to lose everything." He looked at Matt and Mohinder's stunned faces and continued. "I have to go now. Can I rely on the two of you if worse comes to worse?"

Matt and Mohinder shared another glance before they both nodded. "Yes." Matt answered. "We'll be waiting."

* * *

_Peter Petrelli, Roosevelt Hospital_

The change of environment was instantaneous. One moment he was in Nathan's hospital room back in Odessa and the next he was on the roof on the Roosevelt Hospital in New York. Peter opened his eyes and looked around the city; his eyes lingered on the buildings and the New York skyline. Only one thought seemed to solidify itself in Peter's mind.

_I'm home._ It was a small statement but that only seemed to make it that much more meaningful. He knew that it hadn't actually been that long since he was last here and then subsequently locked in a shipping container with no memories but there always seemed to be this odd feeling in Peter's stomach when he returned here. Nostalgia was the only word that Peter could come up with to describe the feeling.

Peter pushed the feeling aside and focused on what he had come here to do. He had a faint idea on who to talk to first. He figured Lily would be his best bet; he had gotten the impression that she wanted to find out who shot Nathan as badly as he did. But then there was that Sophie woman, she knew who had done it but Peter had absolutely no idea where she was or even if she would help him.

He moved across the roof and pulled open the door to the stairwell. He paused at the entrance, looking around the brightly-lit stairwell in surprise. Different feelings were leaping out at him: fear, anger, envy, even lust—and those were only the ones he could recognise, the only ones that jumped out at him and drowned everything else.

Peter shook his head as he attempted to clear himself of the emotion barrage. It wasn't like what happened with Matt Parkman's telepathy, the sensation wasn't making his head ache—it wasn't even hurting him. He blinked and began to climb down the stairwell. This sudden onset of foreign emotions indicated to him that Lily's ability was doing this—yet another reason to seek her out.

He wiped a hand across his face as he stopped in front of one of the doors leading out of the stairwell. He hesitated for a moment as the barrage of emotions seemed to grow. He closed his eyes tightly and concentrated. For a moment it seemed like nothing happened but soon Peter felt the onslaught weaken until it was a faint buzz in the back of his head. It was annoying, but manageable.

He reached out his hand and pushed open the stairwell's exit. Hospital workers were rushing around the white corridors, each one seemingly having ten things to do. Peter began to walk, weaving his way through everyone with practiced experience. He wasn't exactly sure if he'd find Lily here, he only remembered her thinking about this hospital in a stray thought. He hoped she was here; he really didn't want to go to Hartsdale to look for her.

It was probably close to an hour of walking and reaching out with Matt Parkman's telepathy before Peter finally picked up a strain of thought that was vaguely familiar. It was far-away and indistinct, but Peter recognised it nonetheless. He immediately directed himself towards the thought's source. As he got closer, the thoughts began to grow more distinct and he immediately knew who it was. Buried anger began to claw its way to the surface and consume him, he struggled to control it. He didn't notice several people look around in confusion as he unconsciously projected his emotions to everyone in the vicinity.

He stopped in front of a hospital room and looked through the window at the blonde woman searching through a duffle bag at the foot of her bed. Memories were resurfacing of his time at Hartsdale: The woman's daily visits, even the time they had kissed. Caitlin's face popped out at him as the memories of what the woman had done in Ireland flashed through his mind. It was too much, Peter lost control.

In one movement, Peter pushed the door open and barged inside, slamming the door behind him.

The blonde started as if stung, she spun around and glared at him. Her expression turned from one of anger and surprise to one of complete and utter shock. "Peter?" She said incredulously. "What are—?"

"He was my friend, Elle!" Peter shouted. "And you killed him!"

Elle took a step back, surprised at Peter's anger. Confusion mixed in with her shock and it took her a moment to answer. "What, that guy in Ireland?" She asked, frowning slightly.

"His name was Ricky! He was protecting me from you and your father and you killed him!"

"I don't— He lied to me!" Elle shouted back. Her initial shock at Peter's sudden appearance had cleared and now she was defending herself. Peter knew she didn't think she had done anything wrong—she never thought she did anything wrong.

Peter began to take a step forward but stopped when he noticed electricity forming in Elle's hand. "Are you gonna do to me what you did to him?!" Peter demanded. "I'd like to see you try."

Elle looked down at her faintly glowing electricity and let it fade away from her palm. "No." She said quietly. "I don't want to." Her voice picked up and gained confidence. "But I will if you force me to, Peter."

"Restraint?" Peter laughed. "It wasn't even that long ago when you were begging me to let you shock me!"

"I'm different now." Elle said defensively. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will!"

"A tiger can't change its stripes, Elle." Peter said angrily. He knew he was being cruel but he didn't care, just looking at Elle and knowing the things she had done was making him furious. He didn't care what he said as long as he knew it hurt her. "You're still the same sadistic little girl and you always will be!"

Elle started forward angrily, electricity crackling in her palm.

Peter held out his own hand and felt it pulse with weak nuclear energy. Elle's eyes focused in his glowing hand and let her ability fade away. She took a step back, then another. Fear danced across her eyes and she opened her mouth and let out a scared whimper. "Peter?" She took another step back from the wild look in Peter's eyes. "Peter!" She cried out.

Peter jerked at the obvious terror in her voice. He looked down at his radiating hand and he seemed to snap out of a trance. He let the energy disappear and he felt disgust revolve around his body. He was horrified that he would have actually killed Elle then and there—even more sickening was the realisation that he still wanted to.

"What the hell is going on here?" Peter turned around to see Lily appear inside the doorway, staring between him and Elle with an unreadable expression on her face.

Peter opened his mouth to answer but was beaten to the punch by Elle. "Nothing." The blonde lied, her voice slowly regaining the confidence she had lost during Peter's threat.

Lily frowned at her. She was obviously reading Elle's emotions and sensing the fear Elle had experienced. She turned her gaze towards Peter and stared at him with piercing eyes. Her eyes widened slightly at his furious emotions. "I think you'd better leave, Peter." She said calmly.

Peter didn't say anything; he didn't trust himself to speak. He was horrified with himself. He had never felt anything like that before. He turned away and walked towards the door. Lily slid inside and let him go by. He was almost through the door when Elle's voice sounded through the room.

"Peter?"

He turned back and stared at her. "What?" He asked coldly.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not." Peter replied as he turned back around and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

_Elle Bishop and Lily Miles, Roosevelt Hospital_

"What happened?" Lily demanded as she crossed the room to look at Elle's face.

"Nothing, I told you." Elle replied as she drew in a deep breath. "I'm fine."

"That didn't look like nothing and you are obviously not fine. I could feel it from down the hall."

Elle met Lily's stare calmly and with full control. "I'm fine and even if I wasn't, it's none of your business."

Lily sighed and turned away. "Have you checked everything?" She asked as she indicated to the duffle bag lying abandoned on Elle's bed.

"Yeah. I just finished before Peter came in. I've got clothes, a gun and all that other stuff you told me to pack." Elle walked over to the duffle bag and zipped it up. "You know, you still haven't told me what you want me to do."

Lily smiled. "We're waiting for Noah. It saves me from explaining everything twice."

"Like he doesn't already know." Elle scoffed. She placed the bag on the ground and sat on the bed, regarding the door thoughtfully.

"Maybe…" Lily said as she followed Elle's gaze. "You don't have to lie to me and tell me you're alright, you know."

"Does he hate me?" Elle asked, completely ignoring Lily.

"Probably." Lily said bluntly. "You hurt him."

"Then why don't I feel guilty about it?"

Lily hesitated and was saved from answering by a knock on the hospital room's door. After a second, Noah opened the door and walked inside. "I saw Peter in the hallway." He informed them, regarding both women casually. "He looked furious, what happened?"

"Nothing!" Elle said sharply. She turned to Lily and said. "Can we get on with this? I don't wanna be here for another hour!"

Noah raised an eyebrow at Elle's tone but didn't comment on it.

Lily smiled at him and nodded towards Elle. "Okay, okay. But first I need to know if you'll tell your father about this, Elle."

"I'm not telling him anything!" Elle said quickly. "I just wanna hear whatever you've got planned and do it!"

"You're sure?"

Elle nodded vehemently. It was curiosity that was driving her more then anything else this time. She knew that her father wouldn't agree about what Lily had planned and maybe that was the reason she was set on doing it. It was a chance to get away from The Company and her father for a little while; a way to escape from her problems and her nightmares.

"I need you two to go to Costa Verde and collect Claire Bennet."

Elle groaned loudly. She should have realised that the price of getting away from the Company had strings attached—or rather one tiny blonde, cheerleading one.

"I knew that was gonna happen." Lily smirked at Elle. "But in all seriousness. Claire is in danger. There are these people out there—I'm sure you remember them, Noah—they're all extremely dangerous and powerful and it's only common sense that they want Claire and her blood. Bob tried to rectify that risk by having Claire killed, of course that didn't go anywhere near to plan."

Elle noticed the corners of Noah's lips rise in amusement. "So you're saying we're bagging Claire." She asked.

"Not exactly; it's true I want you to collect her and bring her to Hartsdale but preferably willingly. That's part of the reason Noah's going with you."

Elle sighed. "So these people that also want Claire; they'll be looking for her too, won't they?"

"I'd be surprised if they haven't located her already." Lily said truthfully. "This will be dangerous, one of the most dangerous assignments you've ever been on. If they _have_ found Claire, you two have to get in, grab Claire and then get out as fast as you can."

Elle nodded and looked at Noah's guarded expression for a moment before speaking to Lily. "See, I told you he knew all of this already."

Lily smiled and shook her head good-humouredly. "There's a plane leaving in an hour. If you don't know what to do when you get there, I'm sure Noah will be happy to clarify."

Elle enthusiastically jumped off the bed and grabbed the duffle bag off the ground. "At least this'll get me away from Hartsdale for a while--even if it means I have to save a cheerleader." She smiled as she slung the bag over her shoulder. "Okay, let's go!"


	13. Chapter 13: New Orleans

_Sylar, New Orleans._

He knew these two brothers would be giant pains in the asses, but at the time, he hadn't realised just how much. Tracking them had been easy; he had been able to follow them without any difficulty since Odessa. It had been the catching up part that had given him the most trouble. No matter how hard he pushed his stolen car, they always seemed to push theirs even harder.

He was frustrated and tired. After nearly a week of chasing after them, he was barely any closer to catching them then when he started. Revenge and anticipation were the only things that were keeping him fuelled over the cross-country chase. He wanted to kill both of them nice and slow and take their abilities for his own.

In one smooth movement, Sylar manoeuvred his car off to the side of the street he was travelling on and pulled over. The brothers had stopped here not too long ago and that was enough to make Sylar cautious. After almost non-stop travelling, why would they stop here of all places?

He climbed out of the car and closed his eyes. The brothers were close by; he could easily hear their hurried whispers and breathing. A slow smile grew on Sylar's face as he listened to their conversation. They knew they were being followed but they had no idea that it was him. They thought it was the man that had confronted them at Primatech. The man that Sylar knew for a fact was barely a few hours behind him--if even that.

They were both distracted and just as tired as he was. He knew that this would be his best—and possibly only—chance to confront them. But this time he'd been the one with the element of surprise, not them.

"_It's around here, isn't it?"_ Sylar picked up the younger brother's words with his enhanced hearing. They weren't too far away, a few minutes walk at the most.

"_No idea."_ The older brother stated. _"Doesn't matter though, Knox'll show up eventually and we can get the hell out of here."_

After about a minute of walking, Sylar frowned as an odd clicking sound reached his ears, quickly being followed by the older brother's satisfied sigh.

"_You finally get it open?"_ The younger brother asked.

Sylar slowed to a halt and looked around a street corner. The brothers were out of their car and were both looking intently at a metal case that was resting on the car's hood.

"Just, be quiet. I want to savour this moment." The older one replied.

Sylar noticed the younger brother roll his eyes. "Just open the damn thing!"

The older brother reached down and lifted the top of the case. His expression turned from one of satisfaction to one of disbelief and anger, while a large grin appeared on his brother's. "I really hate the Company!" The older brother said.

The younger brother laughed and reached inside the case. He immediately pulled out a smaller case that had an electronic lock. "That's gotta piss you off." He turned the case around in his hands and examined the keypad. "A seven digit pass-code, most probably made with random numbers. Sorry, Steven, but unless the code is seven of the same number, there's no way you can open this one."

The older brother—Steven—punched the hood of the car in frustration. "Just like the other two…"

Sylar ignored the last of Steven's sentence and began to stride towards them. He knew they wouldn't see him coming, nobody could ever see him coming unless he wanted them to. He knew how it worked. He had snuck up on Peter Petrelli and Bennet in Kirby Plaza doing this; he had escaped from Primatech and The Haitian by doing this.

As he drew closer, the younger brother looked up and his eyes widened in shock. Sylar grinned in amusement and flicked his fingers. The younger brother gasped as he was telekinetically lifted and thrown back.

The sound caused Steven to jerk around and instinctively raise his hands. Sylar lashed out and grabbed his wrist. "Remember me?" He laughed as ice began to form over his hand and pass into Steven's arm.

Steven cried out as his skin started to turn blue. He started shivering uncontrollably and his entire body began to weaken.

Sylar smirked as the younger man collapsed to his knees. The only thing stopping him from falling to the ground was Sylar's hand around his wrist. "You've never been frozen before, have you?" He smirked. "This is different to the freezing thing you do, this kind hurts. But don't worry…" Sylar raised his free hand and pointed it at Steven's forehead. "…It will all be over soon."

"No!"

Sylar looked curiously towards the source of the shout. Steven's brother was picking himself up from where Sylar had thrown him. White light was glowing uncontrollably around his fists and was rapidly moving up his arms.

"Do you really think you can do your little thing before I can do mine?" Sylar asked as he dragged his finger less than an inch across Steven's forehead. He ignored Steven's cry of pain and the blood that started to stream down his head and kept his eyes on Steven's brother.

The brother hesitated at the sight of Steven's blood. The light around his arms flickered and weakened slightly. "Stop," he pleaded, "please."

Sylar narrowed his eyes and turned back to Steven. Steven cried out again and Sylar began to move his finger. Sylar paused and looked up as the brother's enraged scream sounded.

A bright flash immediately lit up the entire street. Sylar stumbled back and covered his eyes with his arm. He felt something hit him—hard. Steven's arm was torn from his grasp and something blunt struck him heavily in the ribs. The kicks struck two more times before Steven's voice sounded and soon followed by running footsteps.

Sylar blinked and tried to see past the bright colours clouding his vision. This wasn't even close to the way he had planned this. He had assumed Steven was the dangerous one, but the brother was turning into a bigger pain-in-the-ass than Steven was. Together they seemed to be unbeatable. If he focused on one, the other would be able to take advantage and if he took on both of them, they would easily work together and kill him. He really saw one last option: Divide and conquer.

Sylar smirked at his realisation and blinked rapidly. Through the gaps in the spots of colour, Sylar could see into the now empty street.

The brothers were gone.

* * *

_Owen and Steven Pierce_

Owen pulled his brother around a corner and shoved him to the ground. Steven's skin was icy blue and long white plumes of air were being exhaled from his nose and mouth. He was shivering uncontrollably and every breath caused the spasms to intensify.

"You're gonna be fine, okay." Owen said calmly as he moved his hands to Steven's shoulders. "This is gonna hurt like hell."

Steven jerked roughly and cried out as soft white light began to flare under Owen's palms, slowly driving the cold out of Steven's body. After a few minutes of jaw-clenching pain, Steven's shivers began to subside and the icy blue hue on his skin began to fade.

Steven drew in a ragged gasp, "That son-of-a-bitch!" He exclaimed angrily.

"Take it easy, man." Owen urged. "We'll have to move again soon and I'm not gonna drag your ass around again."

"Okay, Mom." Steven replied sardonically as he reached up and stiffly massaged his shoulder. "This is gonna sting like a bitch in the morning."

"It's only sunburn and you've had a lot worse before." Owen sighed and leaned against the wall beside his brother. "We're totally screwed. We've got two brutal killers chasing us and—"

"And you were the one who pissed both of them off."

"Oh, come on, that's not true." Owen retorted. "You were the one who pissed of Sylar, not me."

Steven groaned as he slowly began to pick himself up off the ground. "We need to get the hell out of here," he said as he flexed his stiffened joints, "fast!"

"Well, you're the one that would know about speed." Owen said. "But do you have any idea how we stop Sylar from following us?"

Steven frowned and closed his eyes for a moment. "We could always draw him to us."

Owen turned at stare at his brother in surprise. "Seriously? You actually _want_ to start a fight? And people say _I'm_ the reckless one."

"We don't have any other options." Steven said tersely. "Sylar's probably recovered from your flare and is trying to find us again."

"Yeah, but you can barely stand." Owen protested.

"I don't need to stand. All I need to do is slow him down so you can finish the job, like we normally do."

Owen thought for a moment. "We might have another option."

"What?" Steven cocked his head curiously.

"Knox shouldn't be too far away, right?"

Steven shrugged. "I dunno, maybe."

"We could always lure them to us and let them duke it out… I dunno; you're the planner, not me." Owen shrugged and scuffed his shoe, he expected Steven to shoot it down and come up with something a lot better. It happened quite a lot, Steven was always the smartest and he was always the blunt instrument.

"That might actually work." Steven tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I mean it's risky—even for us, but if it does… It all really depends if Knox is in town."

'It's your choice, Steven." Owen said lightly. "Fight or flight? What do you wanna do?"

Steven sighed and weakly pushed himself from the wall. "Let out a flare, then we run."

Owen nodded and braced himself, charging the sun's energy stored in his body. He glanced at his brother. Steven had turned away from him and was covering his eyes with his arms. Owen breathed out in relief and closed his own eyes lightly. He could feel the energy begin to fill to bursting point within his body. He grinned at the sudden euphoria that consumed him as light began to shine brightly in the street.

He held his hands out and pointed them up into the sky. He felt a sudden rush as the built up energy burst from his palms and streaked up into the night sky.

* * *

_Monica Dawson and Micah Sanders_

"Monica!" Micah cried as he stumbled hastily into the bedroom.

"Micah, you need to be quiet." Monica whispered in amusement as she pulled her hood up over her head. "We don't want to wake up the entire neighbourhood." In truth, Monica was surprised that the entire neighbourhood wasn't already awake. Those two bright flashes not too long ago had lit up the entire sky for a brief moment. It was the entire reason why Monica was awake now and was getting ready for another excursion.

"I picked up something on the police band!" Micah informed her in an excited whisper. "It's about those flashes before."

Monica nodded and looked thoughtfully at Micah. The kid had been doing a lot better when he started helping her with these things. It had helped both of them. Monica was no longer over-tired and she only went out when Micah picked up something from the police-band. "I'm just about to head out now." She told him. "I'll be back before morning."

She reached out a hand and ruffled Micah's bed-hair. "See you soon, kid." Monica smiled as she climbed out her bedroom window and disappeared into the night.

* * *

_Sylar_

The bright spots of colour still danced rapidly in and out of his vision, but right now, Sylar didn't care that he could barely see. The brothers had gotten away from him again! That flash just before had hurt his already stinging eyes even more. The only thing it had been good for was that it had pinpointed their location to him. But now he was here and the brothers were nowhere to be found.

Sylar growled in frustration and slammed his fist against the already cracked wall. He was sick of this hopeless chance and second humiliation, the only reason he had even carried on this long was because of his desire for the brother's abilities.

He frowned as his sensitive hearing picked up the sound of sirens behind him. He growled again and began to walk down the street. His frustration had been clouding his abilities. He wasn't noticing things like the cop car until it was too late.

He stopped in mid-step and cocked his head to the side as the flash of metal glinted from the other side of the street. He crossed the street quickly and knelt over the object. It was one of those cases the brothers had been dragging along since Primatech. He recognised its small frame as the case they had been examining when he interrupted them.

Flashing red and blue lights caught his eyes as a police car turned into the street. Sylar sighed once again in frustration and began to walk as casually as he could away from the police car.

"Hey, you!" A voice sounded from the car.

Sylar turned around and winced at the light being emitted from the car's headlights. "Yeah?" He answered, giving his voice a southern accent in attempt to fool the cop.

"What are you doing out here at this time of night?" The cop asked as the car pulled along side Sylar. "It's dangerous around these parts, I don't want you getting mugged or killed."

"I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine." Sylar replied.

The cop poked his head out of the car window and his eyes focused on the case held tightly in Sylar's hands. "What's in the case?"

"Just work things."

"Then you won't mind if I take a look." The cop said as he pushed open the car door. "They've been a lot drugs on the street lately and it never hurts to be too cautious."

Sylar rolled his eyes and prepared to telekinetically kill the police officer before he got too close. He was just about to lift his finger when fast-moving footsteps reached his ears. He quickly took a step back and pressed himself against a building's wall.

"Sir?" The police officer asked as he shone the flashlight into Sylar's face. "Please open the—" He broke off in a ragged scream as a dark figure quickly landed in front of him and lashed out. The cop was pushed hard against his car and the screams suddenly cut off as thick red blood began to pour down onto the streets.

Sylar immediately dropped the case and allowed nuclear energy to rush into his hands. It always paid to be prepared, especially around someone like this newcomer. He recognised his now from back at Primatech, the man who the brothers had left at a snail's pace while they escaped; the man who they called Knox.

Sylar remained still as Knox slowly turned around and stared in fascination at the gleaming blood that covered his forearm. Behind him the cop collapsed in a dead heap. "So you're the one who was at Primatech." Knox stated as his eyes slowly turned to Sylar. "I thought I smelt something familiar." He paused at the glow emitting from Sylar's hands. "Where are the brothers?" He asked.

"They're mine!" Sylar snarled. "After I'm done with them, you can have what's left."

"You're not scared of me." Knox stated curiously. "Why?"

"Why should I be?" Sylar taunted. "You're just a beast with overly sensitive smell. I don't want that pathetic little ability. I may as well just kill you now!"

"You can try." Knox said as he leapt forward, lashing out with his fist.

Sylar was barely able to avoid the punch that collided heavily with the building's wall. Sylar looked in amazement as he noticed Knox's bloodstained arm impaling the wall up to his elbow.

"And super-strength" Sylar said curiously as he watched Knox wrench his arm out of the wall. "Congratulations, you just made my list."

Sylar thrust out with his hand and nuclear energy erupted out of his palm, leaving a small crater in the street where Knox had previously been standing. Sylar growled and looked around the street, searching for any sign of the other man.

Again his ears picked up the fast-paced footsteps. Sylar spun around to see Knox's hand lash out and grab his shoulder. Sylar cried out in pain as Knox's fingers squeezed sharply, digging into his flesh and drawing blood. Sylar gritted his teeth and grasped Knox's forearm with his nuclear-charged hand. This time, it was Knox who cried out in pain as he abruptly let go of Sylar's shoulder to nurse his burnt hand.

Sylar took his chance to thrust out telekinetically, pushing Knox back into the building's exterior. Sylar grinned and pushed harder, causing Knox to cry out again as cracks began to form on the wall.

His head jerked around as multiple sirens began to echo not too far away. Sylar growled and turned his attention back to Knox. "You got lucky!" He hissed as he turned to flee.

"No, you're the one who's lucky." Knox replied arrogantly, his voice sounding far-off and distant.

Sylar turned back to see the animal-like man grinning madly. He began to run, leaving Knox pressed against the wall for as long as he could.

He turned a corner and disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

_Monica Dawson_

Monica watched the engagement between the two obviously super-powered men in awe. She hadn't expected to see anything like this. She hadn't arrived that long ago, she had gotten here in time to see the very start of the short exchange between the two men.

She winced as the taller, skinnier man sent the other man flying into a wall without even touching him. Long, jagged cracks spread like spider webs across the wall. At first, Monica thought that the entire building had shaken with the force of the collision.

The men exchanged words for a second before both their heads snapped around and looked towards the end of the street. Monica turned her own head and her eyes immediately fell on the flashing red-and-blue emergency lights of the NOPD. She immediately turned back to look at the two men. The taller one was stepping away from the other and was beginning to make his way down the opposite side of the street. He turned back briefly before running down the street and disappearing around a corner.

As soon as the taller man vanished, the other one was released from whatever was trapping him against the wall. He fell down to the pavement and landed on all fours. Monica froze and tried to remain as still as possible. As soon as the man was free, she had felt thick waves of fear crash over her. She just somehow _knew_ that he wouldn't hesitate to tear her apart and that she couldn't do a single thing to stop him.

Monica's eyes widened in horror as the man looked up at her position on the low rooftop. She began to scramble back, her finely tuned and instinctive muscles kicking into adrenaline-filled action.

It was too little, too late. In one giant leap, the man sprang from his position on the ground and closed the distance between him and Monica in mere seconds.

Monica stumbled and fell to the ground as the man appeared right in front of her and knocked her off balance.

"I know you." The man stated at he sniffed the air. "You're related to Hawkins, aren't you?"

Monica was paralyzed by fear, she had no idea how that other man could stand it. She couldn't even nod to confirm or shake her head to lie.

"It doesn't matter." The man continued in a conversational manner. "It's too late to do anything about you, you know. Can't have the cops realising I'm back in town." He grinned and reached down to grab Monica's forearm. "I'll be seeing you soon!" He hissed as he flung her off of the rooftop and down into the street below.

Monica cried out as she hit the ground heavily. She coughed and gasped as the collision drove all the breath from her body. She struggled to pick herself off of the ground and look up. She sighed in relief when she couldn't see the man on the roof, all of the fear she had felt was dripping away now that she couldn't see him.

She stretched out with her hands and cocked her head as her fingers touched metal. She looked to her left and picked up the small steel case and examined it curiously.

Her head snapped around as the police sirens finally brought her back to reality. She scrambled to her feet and began to run, the case grasped briefly in her hands. She rounded the opposite corner and instinctively moved towards higher ground.

She froze and spun around. It was like she could feel the man's eyes just staring at her in the dark.

She shook her head and continued running, disappearing into the night.

* * *

_Owen and Steven Pierce_

"You two are late!"

Owen and Steven spun around to face the source of the voice. They relaxed when their eyes fell on a brunette woman leaning easily against a wall.

"Casey." Owen stated. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Casey shrugged and moved a lock of hair out of her face. "Delivering a message. It took a long time to find you two. I almost went back home."

"What's the message?" Steven asked as he leant against another wall and rubbed his eyes.

Casey turned her attention towards Steven. "What happened? You look like hell!"

"We ran into Sylar!" Steven replied shortly. "What the hell is the message?"

Casey rolled her eyes. "We're meeting in New Jersey in about two days time. Don't be late."

"We won't be." Owen answered for his brother. "We'll see you then."

"I'm looking forward to it." Casey grinned. She winked at the brothers and after a short tearing sound, she disappeared from view.


	14. Chapter 14: Night Terrors

A/N: Sorry for the wait. Enjoy! :)

* * *

"You're late!"

Casey winced and froze in place. "Since when have you cared about punctuality, Aswan?" She straightened and looked around the dimly lit corridor that ran for a length before splitting into several other branches. This place served as a temporary meeting ground, a place where they could all come together since their imprisonment. "I had to find the brothers, they took a detour."

"Will they get here in time?" Aswan asked as he turned to face Casey.

"Who cares!" Casey shrugged. "If they're not, I'll just…" She made hissing sound from between her teeth. "…teleport and bring them back. Easy!"

"And what if you can't find them?"

"It doesn't really matter, does it?" Casey smiled cheerfully as she spoke. "It's not like we're running on some kind of schedule."

"Speaking of schedules," Aswan said as he moved into one of the thin beams of light in front of Casey. "Are you ready to go?"

"To sun and beaches, of course," she placed her hand on Aswan's broad shoulder. "We better finish this thing quickly. It's been a long time since I've lounged in the sun—three years, actually."

"So, you're like the others?" Aswan stated. "I thought you'd a little bit thankful. They did teach you how to control your ability."

Casey's mood immediately turned angry. "I was figuring it out on my own. They took me away from my family, did all these tests… I just want a little revenge, that's all." She shook her head as if she was trying not to think about what happened. "What about you?" She inquired suddenly.

"What about me?"

"Why are you doing this? They didn't do anything to you. The rest of us have some motivation, but not you."

It seemed like an age before Aswan spoke. "I want answers."

"What answers?"

"It doesn't matter," Aswan shook his head. "We have to leave."

Casey shrugged her shoulders. "What's the name of the place again?"

"Costa Verde," Aswan answered.

The corner's of Casey's lips rose, "Costa Verde." The words had barely left her mouth when a sharp crack echoed through the empty hall and the two disappeared.

* * *

_Elle Bishop, Unknown_

"Oh, crap, not again!"

Elle stared around the bleak, grey environment and felt the unsettling mixture of fear and panic rise within her body. She knew what came next. Why the hell had she fallen asleep?

"You kept me waiting."

Elle jumped, her heart leaping to her throat as the unexpected voice sounded from behind her. She spun around and reached out for the ability that lay just out of reach. It was the reason she hated this place as much as she did. Here she was powerless.

Her eyes fell on the figure of an auburn-haired woman. Elle instantly recognised her. It was the woman who terrorised her throughout her entire coma. Elle didn't know her name, but she could never forget her face.

"I take it you returned from your coma." The woman stated. "I wonder how. According to my source, you shouldn't have been able to wake. Your body was too damaged in the crash."

"I'm a lot more resilient than people think." Elle responded.

"Clearly," the woman said thoughtfully. "With the amount of torture your body's been through, I'm not surprised. You can't live the life you lead without forming a hard outer shell."

Elle's heart leapt again as the greyness around her and the woman began to spiral and shift. Colours were painted across the grey with an artist's expert stroke.

"Stop it!" Elle screamed at the woman as she took a step away.

The woman smiled wickedly as her body began to dematerialise into the rapidly forming scene. "What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger."

Her words echoed eerily around the newly formed corridor. Familiar blue and white walls leapt out at Elle. She knew where she was…and what scene was about to play out in front of her.

She took a small step forward, her hand lingering on the wall. It felt real. It was like everything in this place was real. It was easy to lose yourself in this place, experience had told her that.

Her heart started pounding uncontrollably as furious shouts echoed down the hall. _Right on cue,_ Elle mused. She took another step forward, staring straight at the corner only meters in front of her. Any second now, three people would come hurtling around that corner and then the scene would be minutes away from its conclusion.

The first patter of footsteps barely reached her ears. As they grew louder, Elle's heart only picked up pace. She gasped as a bright flare of bluish-white light poured from around the corner, quickly being followed by pitch blackness.

The footsteps grew louder as several people sprinted around the corner and ran right past her. In all the times she had seen this, she had never been able to identify how many people came running down this hallway and she had never managed to find out who they were. The sudden darkness that followed the flash had robbed her of her eyesight. The two that followed them, however, she knew with complete certainty.

Their footsteps were quieter, it was obvious they were more focused on moving unheard than following the others in their mad dash for safety.

"We should be safe for a little bit now." A voice hissed as the pair rounded the corner. "It'll take them a while to find their way here in the dark—even with flashlights."

Elle held her breath as she heard the man's words. She recognised the voice. It was her old friend and occasional partner: Dean Matthews. His voice sounded tired and more than a little bit angry. Not for the first time, Elle wondered what had just happened.

"Why did you do it?" The second man hissed back. He sounded furious, but the weariness in Dean's voice wasn't present in his. This one had taken a little longer for Elle to identify, but after her second time seeing this, she had been able to place his voice: it was Peter Petrelli. And not the docile little puppy-like Peter she had known in the Company's cell. It was the cold, angry one that had yelled and threatened her back at the hospital.

"I couldn't rely on you to do it now, could I?" Dean snapped at him. "You're too soft, Peter. I did what had to be done—something that you should have done two years ago!" Dean's voice became as cold and angry as Peter's. "There were a lot of things you could have done two years ago!"

"What are you talking about?!" Peter's voice began to rise.

"She told me! You could have stopped him, but you didn't!"

"…I'm sorry." Peter said softly after a moments silence. Quiet filled the passage once more; the only sounds emerging from the dark were Dean's laboured breathing and strange metallic clinks from the other end of the corridor.

"Do you hear that?" Peter suddenly spoke up, breaking the uneasy silence.

"Hear what?" Dean replied coldly.

"Footsteps."

"I don't hear anything. Anyway, it's impossible, nobody can find their way straight here. It's like a maze under Hartsdale. Only a Company agent can…" Dean broke off and swore under his breath.

Elle stiffened and pressed her back against the wall. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut but she knew it wouldn't make any difference. Even if she covered her ears, she would still hear what came next.

"They have someone with them who knows their way around here!" Dean hissed to Peter. "It's the only way they could find us this quickly!" Blue electricity surrounded Dean's hands, creating a sharp glow around the hallway.

Elle stared at her friend's face as it was lit up by the electricity. He looked a lot more drained than his voice revealed. It was the look of someone who had been fighting a lot longer than anyone should have to. A face turned by grief and pain. Elle reached out a hand to touch his cheek only to have her fingers pass through and grab empty air.

Shouts of warning began to sound from somewhere in the other passages as the searchers noticed the soft glow.

"I'll be right behind you, Peter. I can handle whoever it is." Dean said calmly. He looked over his shoulder. "Make sure she's safe."

Peter nodded once and ran after the three down the other end of the passage.

Elle watched in sadness as the electricity cracked and grew in strength. She tried to wrench her eyes away, but continued watching in an almost sick fascination.

In one smooth stride, Dean walked to the corner and the electricity surged, pouring out of his outstretched hands. There was a deafening roar and several shouts of pain as Dean's electrical assault struck.

Elle watched as Dean's eyes widened in panic and a cry tore from his throat. The electricity strengthened to such a level that Elle had only been able to produce when she was absolutely furious.

All of a sudden, the lightning weakened until only small sparks travelled up and down Dean's body.

A single gunshot sounded, Dean didn't even have time to react. Elle winced as Dean collapsed, the last sparks of his electricity diminishing.

"Dean!" Peter shouted from back down the passage. Flames burst to light in his palms and he began sprinting down the hall in an effort to get to Dean's fallen body.

A scream of warning and frightful sobs followed him, but Peter paid them no heed. As he dashed by Elle, everything flickered, the hallway, Peter, Dean's body, everything. Elle frowned and looked up in confusion. This had never happened before.

The woman who was controlling the scene suddenly appeared and the hallway morphed into Elle's hospital room back at the Roosevelt. The woman's features were twisted in rage. Everything flickered again. "No!" the woman screamed.

Elle looked on in wide-eyed surprise as the woman slowly faded until Elle was left alone in the hospital room. "What the hell…?" Elle muttered under her breath.

"I'm sorry."

Not for the first time, Elle's heart leapt into her throat as the unexpected words reached her ears.

"I've been trying to reach you for a long time. But…"

Elle turned around and stared at the Indian boy standing at the doorway to the hospital room. He had a mop of dark hair and wore a simple t-shirt, shorts and sandals.

"Who are you?" Elle demanded.

"My name is Sanjog." The boy answered. "And I'm here to show you."

"Show me what?"

Sanjog opened the hospital room's door and walked outside into the hallway.

Elle frowned and followed him cautiously. Her eyes flickered around the room as she walked. Everything looked exactly the same as when she was staying in there, right down to the crumpled bed sheets. She gasped as an image of herself lying pale and unconscious in the bed flickered into existence. She blinked and the image suddenly vanished.

"You must stay close." Sanjog urged, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the room. "You have to see what I need to show you."

"What? What do you need to show me?"

Sanjog stopped suddenly and looked up at her. "You have a decision to make. In your hands hold two lives." Sanjog held his own two fists out to demonstrate. "In one hand you hold one side of a coin and in the other, you hold the opposite side. One of those sides will have to be given away and the choice is entirely up to you."

"What do you mean?" Elle asked in confusion. "I don't understand."

Sanjog pointed at one of the rectangular window outside another hospital room door. "See for yourself."

Elle frowned and peered through the window. The room inside was definitely not a hospital room. The walls were dark concrete covered in graffiti and a substance that looked suspiciously like blood. Elle's eyes widened as her eyes focused on a body sprawled like a broken doll in the centre of the room. Blood surrounded the body and soaked her golden hair. The top of her head was gone in a way that was all too familiar to Elle. She gasped in surprise as her eyes lowered and she finally recognised the body's face: It was Claire Bennet, lying broken and bloodied, sprawled across the dirty ground.

"What is this?" Elle demanded.

"It is what will happen if you discard her side of the coin." Sanjog answered simply, showing the "heads" side of a coin to Elle. He pointed at a room directly opposite to the one Elle had just looked in. "…And that is what will happen if you discard the other."

Elle glanced down at Sanjog and walked slowly to the opposite room. She peered into the window and her eyes widened in shock. Almost everything inside this room was exactly the same as in the other. _Almost_. The body lying bloodstained and broken in the middle of the room was not Claire Bennet's. It was her own.

Elle stumbled back and nearly fell to the ground. Her hands clutched the top of her head as though the scene was about to become a reality.

"I'm sorry." Sanjog repeated as he thrust a coin into her hand. "But you had to see this. In your hands you hold two lives, as opposite as two sides of the same coin. You have to make a choice."

Elle stared down at the "tails" side of the coin in surprise. Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

"Now wake up!" Sanjog commanded. "Wake up!"

_Wake up!_

* * *

Elle jerked awake. Her breath came in laboured gasps. It was like she had just run ten miles without slowing down.

"Elle, Are you okay?"

Elle looked up at the concerned face staring down at her behind a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. "Yeah," she managed to say, "yes. It was just a nightmare."

Noah Bennet gave an almost fatherly look before turning away. "We took off almost two hours ago. We'll still be in the air for a while."

Elle looked out a window and watched the clouds pass below. It had seemed like much longer than two hours inside the dream.

"We'll be in San Diego by morning." Noah informed her. "You should get some more sleep."

Elle shook her head vehemently. "No, no… I'm fine."

"If you say so," Noah shrugged and moved away towards the front of the plane, leaving Elle alone in her seat.

Elle stared at his retreating back for a moment before turning her attention to the belongings she had strewn about a small table before she had fallen asleep. She had been searching for a deck of cards or some other thing to amuse herself.

Her eyes caught a small coin lying almost in the centre of the mess. She reached forward and picked it up. She began to twist it though her fingers, all the time watching each side as it went past. Sanjog's words echoed in her head and Elle knew there was no way she would be able to sleep, even if she tried.

In one deft movement, she flipped the coin high into the air with her thumb and watched as it spun furiously in its decent.

_In your hands you hold two lives, as opposite as two sides of the same coin._

The coin bounced once against the table and spun until it lay flat on the smooth wood. Its face stared up at Elle.

_You have to make a choice._

Tails.


	15. Chapter 15: What the Future Holds Part 1

_Dean Matthews and Caitlin McKenna, Hartsdale Facility, __2009_

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" Claire demanded furiously as she jabbed her finger at Dean's chest. "You're the one who's always going on about how we've got to be careful and all that other stuff! You're the one that always says it's the only way we can stay safe, and you're not even following your own rules!"

Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise at Claire's onslaught of angry words, he'd been expecting questions, not this… definitely not this. Claire was definitely different, it was apparent in her dishevelled appearance as well as her vehement attitude. "Wait, you've got it wrong—!" he began.

"Over a year, Dean, we've done this, and you've never done anything this stupid before! What happened? You come back the wrong way, and then you stab me!" Claire gestured wildly at the cut in her shirt. "'There's no-one else left, if we can't trust each other, we won't survive.' That's what you told me."

Dean just stared in surprise as Claire turned around and wiped her hand across her eyes. "I'm not crying, it's just that stupid fear and relief thing!" She insisted. "I could have killed you, you know? I know it wouldn't have been permanent because of my ability, but, still."

Dean's eyes slowly widened in shock as Claire's words finally dawned on him. "Oh, crap!" he exclaimed as he stared down at the spot where Claire's knife had slashed him. He moved aside his torn sleeve and looked at the smooth skin underneath. There was plenty of blood, but no trace of the gash Claire had inflicted.

"What? What's wrong?" Caitlin exclaimed as she moved from her position against the wall.

Claire turned around at the sound of Caitlin's voice. Her sudden surprise at Caitlin immediately indicated she had just noticed her. "Who's she? What's going on, Dean?"

Dean ignored both woman and stared at his healed skin in complete, overwhelming silence.

"Dean?" Claire said loudly. She clicked her fingers loudly when Dean didn't answer. "What's the matter with you?" she demanded. "You healed. So what? It's nothing you haven't done before!"

"I'm not who you think I am!" Dean snapped suddenly. "I don't come from here! I don't know what the hells going on!" He lashed out against one of the blue-and-white concrete walls, leaving bloody marks where his knuckles split on impact. All of his Company training had fled the moment he met Claire. He felt as if he were drowning and there was no way to fight it. "I don't know what to do!"

He was oblivious to Claire and Caitlin, oblivious to the world around him. He only stopped his uncontrollable assault when he felt a rough hand firmly grip his shoulder and spin him around.

Hard brown eyes stared at him. Dean knew he had seen them before; so many times he couldn't count. His eyes widened as he finally noticed the face that accompanied the eyes. It was just like staring into a mirror, and for a moment, Dean thought he was. It wasn't until something hard collided with his temple that he finally gave a name for the face. It was just like looking into a mirror, exactly like.

He felt the sensation of falling and the name faded away as unconsciousness claimed him.

* * *

Caitlin had seen a lot of things in the last few weeks. She had met people that could do things she thought were impossible. She had travelled through time, seen what the world was set to become, and it had all started with the man she thought she might've loved. She hadn't expected to see him again; she had long given up hope back in that virus-ridden hell. She knew someone else had walked up to Dean, but she was too fixated on this man to notice what was happening to the man who saved her.

"Peter?" Caitlin whispered as she took a step towards him. She had always wondered how she would feel if she ever came face-to-face with him again. Anger was something she had been almost certain, but now she was here and he was there and she had no idea what she was feeling.

She took a small step towards Peter before she finally drove past he surprise and fully noticed what was happening.

Peter was looking towards where Dean had begun his uncontrollable assault against the wall. He looked so different from the Peter she had known two years ago in Ireland. His hair was longer and his face had hardened with grief and anger. Someone was slung carelessly over his shoulder. Auburn hair tickled the ground, swinging slightly as Peter adjusted his grasp.

"He'll be out for a little bit, hopefully not for too long."

Caitlin looked towards the source of the voice and her eyes widened in astonishment. There, standing over Dean's fallen body was another man. He rubbed his knuckles ruefully and met Caitlin's stare with calm eyes.

She hadn't even considered this, not even when Claire was yelling at Dean like she had known him for years. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind. Dean Matthews stood over his fallen past-self and smiled.

"I know, a shocker, right?" He grinned. "I was out at the time, but I've been told that the look on your face was like that. I'm glad I got to see it." He spoke like they had known each other far longer than the hours when the other Dean appeared in the quarantine. He spoke as if they were friends.

The older Dean smiled wider at the stunned silence and turned towards Claire.

Like Caitlin, Claire had stared at Peter in stunned silence. Tears had formed in the corner of her eyes and were threatening to fall down her cheeks. "You're alive." she stammered weakly. "Dean said… He told me you were dead."

"He did, did he?" Peter said as he glanced at Dean who only shrugged.

"We can talk later." Dean said quickly as he bent down to pick up his past self. "I'm tired, I'm hungry and I want to get out of this freezing corridor!"

It wasn't until Dean mentioned it when Caitlin finally noticed the cold. It wasn't so bad, at least not to her. He was definitely over-exaggerating.

"No, we can talk now!" Claire said angrily as she rounded on Dean. "Why did you tell me Peter was dead!?" Tears were falling freely now, the kind of tears that fall when all your bundled emotions suddenly burst, and Claire looked like she had been bottling things up for a long time.

"Claire." Peter said gently. "We can talk later. I promise that we'll explain everything to you then."

Claire wiped a hand roughly across her eyes and glared at Dean before turning and striding alone into the dark corridor.

"You see?" Dean waved after Claire. "That's what I've had to put up with for the past year!"

"You don't understand!" Peter said shortly as he turned and followed Claire. "You've got to stop winding her up—she's been through a lot more than she should have!"

"I'm not going to coddle her, and neither should you!"

Peter just shook his head and resumed walking, carelessly adjusting his hold on the woman as he disappeared into the darkened corridor after Claire.

Dean stared after Peter with an almost angry expression on his face. "We might as well et this over and done with." He said to Caitlin after a moments pause. "It's going to be a long night."

Caitlin stood with her mouth wide-open, trying to think of what to say. "…Is he going to be…?" she began after a moment, pointing at the younger Dean slung over the elder's shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, he'll be fine. I remember what was going through his mind round this time… It was stressful—and that's putting it lightly."

""What do you mean. Has this happened before?" Caitlin asked curiously, her tongue finally loosening.

"Yes and no." Dean answered, winking at her playfully. "Let's just wait for the rest of the class to wake up first." He jerked his younger self, who subsequently groaned in pain. "Well, what do you know?"

"What…" The younger Dean asked mumbled groggily, before his eyes shot open and he began to struggle. "What the hell!? Put me down!"

"Stop squirming! You're not a kid!" The older Dean sighed and then said to himself, "Was I really like this two years ago, seems so long ago now."

The younger Dean immediately stopped struggling at the sound of his future self's voice. "You're real?" He exclaimed as he was dropped roughly to the ground. "I'm not dreaming?

"No." The other Dean said matter-of-factly.

Caitlin watched the short exchange in rapt interest, her gaze drifting between the two with each spoken word. If it weren't for their differences in clothes, she didn't think she would be able to tell the two of them apart.

"Hey, Dean! Get in here! She's waking up!"

All three of them jerked at the sound of Peter's voice as it rang through the halls. In a flash, the older Dean spun around and took off at a short jog towards the source of Peter's voice. "Come on!" He called back to Caitlin and his younger self.

Caitlin watched him disappear around a corner and winced as a stream of light began to flood through the corridors. "Are you okay?" She asked after a moment, turning to face the younger Dean.

"I'm fine." Dean replied. "I'm a little stunned, though."

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know." Uncertainty was streaked through Dean's tone. He had always been in control before they came to this building, but now, Caitlin could clearly see the sudden, unexpected change in his demeanour.

They both looked back towards the room where the others had gone into as Claire's head poked out and her arm gestured at them happily. "Come on, you two. We need to talk." It wasn't just Dean's attitude that had changed since their arrival. Claire was wearing a pleased grin at the return of her uncle, and she couldn't keep it off of her face.

Wordlessly, Dean began to walk towards her. Caitlin hesitated a moment before falling into step beside Dean. "Are you sure about this?"

"We need information, Caitlin. We need to now what happened here."

"I suppose so." Caitlin said with a troubled expression on her face. She glanced up at Dean and then said uncertainly. "…You lost it before, what happened?"

"…I panicked…I think. I don't know. I'm not really used to being out of control. It's just how I was raised."

"That's sad," Caitlin said sadly.

Dean looked down at her in surprise, "Yeah."

There was silence again as the pair rounded the corner and entered a warm, well lit room. Makeshift beds were propped up against the wall, along whatever items that had managed to be salvaged. A small table was placed in the very centre of the room and was piled with supplies and bottled water.

"They cut the water off here a few months ago." Claire said, noticing them looking. "It won't be long now until the power goes as well."

Caitlin glanced at her and then at Peter. There was no sign of the other Dean or the woman Peter had been carrying when he arrived.

"You two need to get back to your own time as soon as you can." Peter said. "If you get hurt here, everything will change."

"I can't get back." Dean said angrily, his disappointment at his failures bubbling back to the surface. "I've tried and tried—I always end up somewhere else."

"Damn it." Peter said under his breath. "When Dean gets back, I'll take you—the sooner you two are back where you're supposed to be, the better."

"What happened here?" Caitlin asked, directing her question towards Claire, instead of Peter. The memory of what Peter had done stung cruelly still.

Claire glanced at Peter and then answered quietly. "Two years ago—"

"Claire!" Peter warned abruptly.

"No, Peter." Claire turned to him, her eyes suddenly blazing with hope and passion. "You're the one who always said that we had to change this. They can do it. You were warned about the bomb and the virus. It's time to let others save the world."

Peter only stared at Claire and her newfound vehemence, before closing his eyes and nodding slightly.

Claire smiled and turned back to Dean and Caitlin. "About two years ago, The Company was infiltrated by someone. We don't know who it was exactly; we just know that he went by the name Evsdropr. He was the cause of all the distrust that emerged between the agents, eventually causing some of them to turn against The Company in an attempt to bring it down. He systematically released some of the people that were being kept in the lowest levels of Primatech. A year later, they struck Hartsdale and killed Bob Bishop, and a lot of other members of The Company."

"Without Bob, The Company couldn't survive. He wasn't a good leader in particular, but he managed to hold everything together." Peter joined in. "Dean managed to get Claire out before they reached her and I went to kill the man who I should have killed a long time ago. He'd gone insane, absolutely insane. I don't know where he was over that year, but wherever Hiro took him, it drove him mad."

"Who was it?" Dean asked.

"Adam Monroe." Peter said. "He was talking about fire and revenge, and that killing off the world with the virus wasn't quick enough for him. Dean and I have been trying to find him, but without Molly, or her power, we don't know where to look. I should have met her when I had the chance, I was too busy trying to hunt down Nathan's killer, I just didn't think. It's harder now that the entire world knows about us and what we can do. What happened here was thing that exposed us to the world."

"But that's not an issue at the moment." Claire took over. "New Jersey is the one thing that we need to change, but… time-travelling isn't really an option. Going into the future is okay, you can't screw anything up. But if you go into the past, you can change everything just by stepping on a butterfly."

Dean absorbed their words quietly, before asking. "What happened in New Jersey?"

Claire sighed. "Sylar was there, he hunted down two of the people Evsdropr helped escape. He even managed to kill one of them… But he killed Elle too."

Dean's eyes widened slightly, but he took in this information swiftly, allowing Claire to continue.

"We don't know if saving Elle will change anything, Peter wanted to find out, but our Dean wouldn't let him go, we don't know why. But her death was where it all started, everything went downhill from there. Who knows what would've happened if she survived.

Caitlin listened to everything that was said in confusion. She didn't understand half of it, their world was a lot different from hers and it was only just starting to drag her in. "What happened to me?" She asked suddenly. Everyone turned to look at her in surprise; they had forgotten she was there. "What happened to me?"

"You died at Hartsdale." Peter said quietly. "A lot of good people did."

"Oh."

"Wait, shouldn't Dean be back by now?" Claire asked suddenly. "He left, like, ten minutes ago."

Quiet filled the room, and was only broken by Peter's gasp. "No!"

* * *

"You guys are pathetic, you know." Sophie taunted as Dean tied her arms down cruelly tight with a piece of rope. "Why can't you just lay down and die already. You've lost the war; just accept it like a man."

"Shut up!" Dean said as her jerked the ropes tighter, causing Sophie to gasp in pain. "We're going to find out where Adam is, you know. We're going to stop him."

Sophie laughed, her beautiful features twisting in a sneer. "Like you stopped us from killing Bob? Like you stopped Sylar from killing Elle?" Come on, Dean, please."

"Shut up, just shut up!" Dean roared. "You don't know anything!"

"I know what happened that day. You don't, you weren't there. Peter knew about Elle. He knew what Sylar was about to do, and guess what? He was still so angry with her over what happened in Ireland, he let Sylar do it."

Dean stopped playing with the ropes and stared at Sophie angrily. "You're lying."

"Am I? Think about it, Dean. Is Peter really that good a person? Is he capable of standing by and letting someone he hates die?"

Dean looked at the ground, uncertainty filled his eyes. Was she right?

"Peter let Elle die!" Sophie grinned. "He stood there and let Sylar cut her brain out of her head! There was so much blood Dean."

Dean looked up and glared at Sophie, his eyes now filled with hatred. Electricity sparked in his hand, casting its eerie blue glow around the room. In a smooth motion, he raised his sparkling hand and pointed it towards Sophie's head.


	16. Chapter 16: What the Future Holds Part 2

"He's going to kill her!" Peter exclaimed as he leapt from his relaxed position against the wall. "I can hear him! Sophie's our only way of finding Adam!" His footsteps thudded on the ground as he sprinted through a door near the back of the room.

"Peter!" Claire cried, her voice echoing through the room. Instantly, she took off after him, dodging past the small table and through the doorway.

"Wait!" Dean yelled after them, taking a step forward and throwing out his hand in a useless gesture. "What's going… on?" He trailed off, and then with a gasp, clutched his head in his hands as images filled his eyes and voices echoed in his ears.

_Dean looked up and glared at Sophie, his eyes now filled with hatred. Electricity sparked in his hand, casting its eerie blue glow around the room. In a smooth motion, he raised his sparkling hand and pointed it towards Sophie's head._

"Dean?" Caitlin said in a concerned and frightened voice.

Dean opened his eyes and gasped for breath. Tendrils of pain shot through his head, making him wince with each burst. The scene lingered in his vision like the afterimage of a flashing light.

"Are you alright?" Caitlin asked.

"Yeah…" Dean replied shakily. "I'm fine."

* * *

"Do it!" Sophie urged as she stared unflinchingly into the flashing ball of electricity. "I know you want to, more than anything."

"Do you think I'm stupid, Sophie?" Future-Dean asked, visibly taking deep breaths to calm down. "We need to rip wherever Adam's hiding out of your head. Then we can put your burnt-out body on the six o'clock news."

"It's not going to make a difference." Sophie said, all traces of humour rapidly disappearing from her voice. "You will never be able to find him, and soon, it's not even going to matter."

"Because Adam wants to 'cleanse the world'?" Dean smirked. "How is he even planning on doing that? I mean with the virus gone and everything. Did being trapped in that coffin make him lose what little sanity he had left?"

Sophie didn't answer. She stared up at him furiously, her eyes mirroring the same hatred Dean had in his.

"I'll find out where Adam is, and if I can't rip it out of you, Peter will. You see, I picked up some new tricks. Everything Peter can do, I can do. It can be hard to control, especially when they all try to come out at once, but I think I've got the jist of it now." Dean cocked his head to the side and accessed one of his acquired powers. The electricity in his hand faded as he telepathically tore into Sophie's head.

Sophie groaned in pain and her arms jerked feebly against her bonds. "Stop it!"

"You know, I get why you tried to kill all the people who could mimic abilities." Dean said as he worked, ignoring Sophie's cries of pain. "If one comes into contact with another, entire arsenals are traded. Peter's stronger than me, he always will be. It's the same with Sylar. But, you just couldn't risk the chance that one of us would get too powerful for you to contain, that one of us would screw up your best laid plans."

Sophie laughed, startling Dean enough that he almost pulled out of her head. "You think it was about you? Come on, Dean, I didn't think that you were that self-centred. You're a mimic, that's true enough. But, please, if you absorb too much, you'll only go insane, especially if you get everything at once. I've seen your type before, that was the only reason The Company tried to acquire you and we tried to kill you. They got to you first, but Eric still had fun with your parents, he even managed to kill one of them."

At this, Dean completely pulled out of Sophie's head, leaving her gasping for breath. Complete shock overwhelmed him as Sophie's final words echoed through his head. "What?"

"He never killed your mother, she's still alive, somewhere out there. Eric wanted to finish it when he found out, but he was captured by The Company before he found them again."

Dean took a step back, shock decorating his features.

"Dean!"

The furious yell cause Dean to turn his head at the source of the voice. Peter was standing in the doorway to the room and was staring him angrily; he knew what Dean had almost done.

"Too late, Petrelli!" Sophie cried as she leant forward in the chair and stared at Dean's defenceless form intently. Dean immediately cried out and clutched his head. He collapsed to his knees and groaned. Sophie was furiously digging into his head, seeking to trap him with the most dangerous aspect of her power: the ability to force someone into her dream-world.

"No!" Peter cried out, flinging his hands up and reaching out or the first ability he could think of. Flames danced feverishly across his hands as they poured out in a massive stream of white heat. The flames encompassed Sophie, causing her to cry out in agony. The flames kept moving, streaming out of a broken window and into the night sky beyond.

Peter clenched his fist and cut off the flames. He ran over to Dean, closing the distance in a few quick seconds. "Dean!" He said urgently as he fell to his knees beside him. Dean's eyes were open and he was blinking rapidly as if warding off pain. Peter immediately breathed a sigh of relief. When Sophie's ability worked, the victim became comatose, trapped in a dream off Sophie's choosing.

"Hurts." Dean groaned as he picked himself off the ground. "Sophie?"

They both looked towards what was left of Sophie. Flames still ran across her charred bones and they could feel the heat radiating from what was left of her dead body.

"Damn it!" Peter shouted. He walked towards Sophie's body, ignoring the heat. "Did you get anything from her before…?" He asked Dean.

"Only a little bit about Adam. I was close… before…"

"Before she told you about your mother?" Peter finished. "I heard."

They both turned towards the door as Claire dashed through, panting slightly from her sprint. "What happened?" She asked as her eyes fell on the two men. She looked from them towards Sophie's burnt body still sitting in a burning chair, and promptly bent over and vomited.

"We have to leave." Peter said as he went over and sympathetically rubbed Claire's back as she retched. "All of Hartsdale would have seen those flames; the police will be here soon."

Dean nodded and stumbled over to the window, poking his head out and glancing around. "Oh, crap!" He exclaimed as he quickly ducked back inside. "They're already on their way."

"That's impossible!" Peter said as he strode over to the window and looked outside. Flashing lights lit up the street, rapidly closing the distance towards the building. He even thought he spied a helicopter in the air. "They must have seen our time-travelling visitors. The road here is probably being watched."

"Let's go!" Dean said as he grabbed Claire who was just straightening and wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "We have to get them back to their own time. They can _not_ stay here."

Peter nodded. "I know, Dean. I'm right behind you. Right after I clean up this mess."

* * *

"We have a serious problem." Future Dean announced as he sprinted through the doorway and back into the living area where his past self and Caitlin were waiting. "Someone saw you two come here, and unfortunately, we just made things a hell of a lot worse."

"What happened?" Caitlin asked.

"They burnt her to a crisp!" Claire announced shakily as she followed Dean through the door. She looked very pale and occasionally wiped a hand across her mouth.

The older Dean cast her a sharp glance, then turned back to the younger Dean and Caitlin. "Things got a bit complicated, and now we have to leave. The police will have all the main exits covered and we don't want to make matters worse by fighting our way out."

"Where's Peter?" The younger Dean asked.

"Making sure the cops don't realise that someone was murdered here." The older Dean replied simply. "He can take care of himself, but he'll meet us downstairs later, just to make sure we're not followed."

"Downstairs?"

"There's an exit down there that leads into the city. Its how we got out when this place was attacked last year." Future-Dean turned to Caitlin. "Claire will take you down there now. Dean and I have to have a little chat."

"Dean!" Claire said in surprise.

"Trust me, Claire. I know what I'm doing."

Claire looked at him suspiciously for a moment before nodding and walking towards Caitlin. "Let's go, okay?"

Caitlin hesitatingly glanced between the Deans and Claire before nodding. "Okay."

Future-Dean waited until Caitlin and Claire were gone before he started speaking. "You've got to be careful. Things are only going to get worse. I know you're confused, and you're tired, and you don't know what's wrong with your ability, but you've got to trust that everything will be okay."

"How the hell do you know how I feel?" Dean exclaimed. "I'm the one who's out of place, not you!"

"Because I stood exactly where you're standing now and listened while my future self told me those exact same words. I've gone through what you're going through now. I know what happens next, and even how it ends."

Dean took a step back. "This happened to you?"

"Two years ago." Future-Dean nodded. "I even took that little surprised step back. My future self asked me to save someone, and Claire was saved. I thought everything was going to change then, but, nothing really did at all. You see, when I was where you are now, Claire was dead and Elle was alive. It all comes down to them. One of them is going to die, and only one of them can be saved."

"What…?"

"Exactly what I said," Future-Dean smiled. "And now I'm going to tell you what I was told: You have to find a way to save both of them, it's the only way you can stop this and change everything. Look, I know it doesn't really seem like you can do much, especially with you're ability on the fritz, but, hey, I've already given you everything you need. Just remember what you care about most."

"What the hell are you doing?" Peter asked as he finally came through into the room.

Future-Dean sighed and turned around at the sound of Peter's voice. "What I have to do, Peter. We can't do anything, not without seriously screwing things up—remember Hiro?"

Peter opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by a loud explosion that sounded from downstairs. "We have to go, now!" Peter shouted over the sound.

Future-Dean nodded and clapped Dean on the shoulder. "Let's get you back home."

Dean turned around and watched as Peter disappeared through the main door and back into the hall where Claire had attacked him and Caitlin. Everything still seemed so surreal, like he was trapped in a nightmare. It wasn't until his future self yelled at him to move over the sound of shouts from downstairs that his feet finally moved through the door after him.

Down they ran, down flights of stairs that Dean knew all too well. They were heading into the basement floors of Hartsdale, where the people with dangerous abilities were kept. While they were running, they were all too aware of the shouts and footsteps above them as the police searched the basements for them. "Why are the police after you guys?" Dean asked as they ran. "You said that they're here because they saw Caitlin and I. Why would they care?"

Future-Dean and Peter exchanged glances. "Our abilities aren't exactly a secret anymore. The last year has only convinced the world that we're all a threat. Without The Company, everything came out in the open. It really was a surprise how instrumental they were in keeping everything hidden."

"Oh. That's a bit depressing."

At the bottom of the final flight of stairs, Claire and Caitlin were waiting anxiously. "What took you so long?!" Claire exclaimed. "And you call _me_ slow."

Future-Dean rolled his eyes. "Claire, you take Dean and Caitlin down to the exit, Peter and I'll make sure no one follows."

"Alright," Claire replied. "Just, be careful, okay?"

"We'll be fine, Claire."

Claire nodded and turned around, gesturing for Dean and Caitlin to follow her. Dean stared at the passage as they ran and frowned. In all his years of exploring this facility, he had never laid eyes in this part, it wasn't on any documents he had seen, and he hadn't heard the slightest mention of it from other agents. Maybe this place was just as secret as it was made out to be.

Abruptly Claire stopped running and froze, causing Dean to nearly crash into her. It was pitch black down here, Dean wasn't even on how many twists and turns they had gone around to get here.

"This is it." Claire said from somewhere in the blackness. "We'll wait here for Peter and Dean. As soon as they're sure we won't be followed, we're going to get out of here."

"What about us?" Caitlin asked from somewhere beside Dean.

"Peter will probably take you two back, I don't know." Claire replied. "We're not going to let you two die, though. Even though you can't screw up much in the future; if you die, I'm sure that's going to have major consequences."

"Yeah, I figured." Dean said. "Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry I stabbed you."

"You should be." Claire joked.

All three looked back in surprise as an intense flare of blue electricity lit up the corridor. Peter's silhouette appeared, almost in stark contrast to the bright blue flash. "You have to leave, now!" He shouted at Dean over the noise. "They found us! Someone there knows their way around down here. There is no running away, now."

"I can't!" Dean yelled. "I could end up anywhere!"

"Look, just concentrate and think about where you want to go! It works. It has to work! But right now, anywhere is better than here" Behind him, the electricity began to flicker and die. Peter looked over his shoulder in surprise.

"What's wrong?" Claire shouted. "What's wrong with Dean?"

"I don't know." Peter said as all traces of the electricity died. He jerked in surprise and Claire cried out as a gunshot echoed down the hall and the impossibly loud thump of a fallen body followed it.

"Dean!" Claire cried out, tears forming in her eyes.

Peter hesitated from a moment, staring in shock down the corridor. "Claire, go through the passage, get out of here. I'll follow you in minute."

Red light filled the corridor as Peter clenched his fists. The light looked unhealthy, unclean. It made Dean's stomach churn uncomfortably. He knew what it was and what Peter planned to do. He was going to destroy these people and all of Hartsdale completely.

"Peter!" Claire whispered urgently. "Don't do this!"

"Get out of here, Claire." Peter said. "Go!"

With a sob, Claire turned around and crawled through a small space, only barely lit by the nuclear light.

"Get out of here, Dean, Caitlin." Peter said. "If you two die, everything will go wrong, everything!" The glow increased in strength, and people could be seen at the end of the corridor, crowding around Future-Dean's dead body. "And Caitlin, I've already made my apologies, but I'll say it again: I am so, so sorry for what I did."

"Peter…" Caitlin said softly.

Dean reached out and grabbed Caitlin's hand. _Take us home, please, just take us home! _He silently pleaded as he closed his eyes.

"Go!" Peter roared as the light grew intensely hot and brilliantly the corridor.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut against the glare and tried to pull Hiro's power out. _Take us home, take us home; take us home!_

He felt a pulling motion, the same one he felt whenever he teleported. But unlike all the other times, he felt like he was going with the current, not against it. The white light grew stronger, hotter. He cried out, hearing Caitlin do the same. He tightened his grip as the current pulled at him; he let it sweep him along and soon the only feeling he had left was Caitlin's hand held tightly in his.

He felt a shift, and all the sensations left as they teleported. All that was left was the dazzling afterimage of the furious nuclear light.


	17. Chapter 17: Revelations

Elle pushed open the front car door and gulped down breaths of fresh air. After two hours spent inside a stuffy car with broken air conditioning, she was already in a worse mood than she was on the plane. And after all her time spent under the hot Californian sun, she knew that this trip to Costa Verde wasn't nearly going to be as fun as she hoped it would be.

"We don't have much further to travel now." Noah Bennet said as he also stepped out of the car. He wouldn't let Elle drive, a fact that had irritated her a lot more than the heat ever could. She _always_ drove. "Another fifteen minutes at most."

"Whoopee." Elle said sarcastically.

Noah stared at her without blinking. She hated it when he did that, it was like he was staring straight through her. "If you're done, I'd like to get back to my family."

Elle shrugged as if the matter didn't concern her and climbed back inside the stuffy car. As soon as Noah couldn't see her face, a sadistic little grin decorated her face. She's put up with Noah and his precious daughter for now, but when they got back to Hartsdale… Elle grinned wider and allowed a single spark to travel across her fingertips.

She looked to her left as Noah climbed back into the car, her smile and spark immediately vanishing. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

"It's useless!" Claire stated hopelessly as she flung herself down onto the golden sand of one of Costa Verde's numerous beaches. "Even if we find the people that took them, it's not going to change anything!"

"Look, Claire. I don't think you have anything to worry about." West said as he sat down next to her. "It's been weeks; whoever took the boxes obviously isn't going to do anything. Why don't you just let this go?"

"Because it's my fault, and I don't want anyone to pay for it!"

"None of this is your fault." West sighed. "We've been over this, how many more times do I have to say it?"

Claire glanced at him, frowning at the exasperation in his voice. "You didn't have to help with this, you know."

"What else was I supposed to do, Claire? You're my friend and you needed help!"

"I didn't need any help!" Claire shouted.

"You were crying on your driveway!" West yelled back. "If you wanted to do this alone, why didn't you say so?"

Claire stood up and glared at West angrily. "Just leave me alone, West. I'm going home." She turned and strode away, fully expecting West to call out after her. He didn't. Claire felt tears prickle the corners of her eyes. It wasn't about West; none of this had ever been about West in the first place. It was about her, it had always been about her.

She looked over her shoulder as she came to the stretch of pathway leading away from the beach. West was gone. It didn't surprise her; she even felt a certain degree of relief. She could count the amount of times she had been left alone lately on her fingers. Claire sighed and kept walking. She had never really realised before these last few weeks how much she wished everything could get back to normal. She wished that they had never moved to Costa Verde, that Sylar had never even discovered who she was or what she could do. She wished that she never even had this ability. She was at the lowest she had ever felt, and she didn't think she would ever get back up.

"Are you okay?"

Claire started and jerked around to face the source of the voice. Her eyes fell on a brunette girl standing slightly off the side of the path. Claire frowned slightly, she was sure the girl hadn't been there before. "I'm fine." she replied, staring at the girl distrustfully. There was something about the girl that just seemed a little off. Claire couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she just knew something was wrong.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." The girl replied. "My name's Casey."

"I'm fine." Claire repeated, as she continued walking. Casey stepped in front of her, blocking her path. At once, the feeling of unease grew stronger. "What're doing?"

"Nothing, really, I just wanted to say that it's dangerous for someone like you to be out here alone. You never know what kind of crazies are out there."

"I can take care of myself." Claire said as she walked around Casey and continued down the path.

"Just because you can heal, doesn't mean that you can take care of yourself, Claire!" Casey called after her.

Claire froze, immediately stiffening at Casey's words. "What did you say?" Claire said as she turned around to face the brunette. She gasped as her eyes fell on empty air. Casey was gone, vanished in an instant. Claire scanned the path; it was like she had never been there in the first place.

Claire suddenly felt an uncomfortable prickling at the back of her neck. She spun around, drawing in a ragged breath. The path ahead of her was bare. It was only her. Claire began to run, desperately sprinting along the pathway towards her home, towards safety.

She was out of breath and panting heavily when she pushed her bedroom door closed. She leaned against it heavily and closed her eyes. Her panic was barely repressed by a fragile barrier that was ready to be shattered completely by the slightest surprise. It wasn't the first time Claire had felt like this, but unlike the other times, she was alone, and had no one to rely on.

She opened her eyes and nearly screamed in fright when her eyes fell on the brunette, Casey, lounging self-assuredly on her bed, examining one of the stuffed bears that were scattered around the room.

"I never figured you for a bear-person." Casey said as she dropped the bear onto a pillow and sat up. "Mommy and little brother aren't here; it's just you and me, Claire."

"Who… who are you?" Claire stammered fearfully. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"I'm a friend of your father's." Casey said calmly. "And I need to find him."

"I don't know where my dad is." Claire said, watching Casey carefully as she moved off the bed and looked out the bedroom window. Her eyes were drawn to a gun tucked into the waistband of Casey's jeans. Claire swallowed and began to slide her hand towards the door-handle.

"Yeah…" Casey turned and looked knowingly at Claire. "I really need to talk to him, and if he thinks you're in danger, he'll come running. You're bait, Blondie."

Claire grabbed the door handle and pulled open her bedroom door, fleeing through it and down the hallway. Casey didn't make a sound; it was as though she had fully expected her to do this. Claire risked a glance over her shoulder and saw Casey reach back and pull the gun from her waistband.

Claire increased her pace, fear providing all the energy she needed. She didn't even bother to slow down when she reached the stairs, leaping down them five at a time. In an instant, Claire skidded roughly to a halt, crying out at the sudden pain that rippled through her torso as she collided with the kitchen bench top. Casey was standing in front of her, pointing the sleek silver gun at Claire's head. "How did you…?" Claire began.

"I'm like you, Claire. I'm special too." Casey said. "Now, please just stay calm and you won't get hurt."

"You're pointing a gun at my head." Claire retorted. "How am I supposed to stay calm?"

Casey grinned, but did not lower the gun. "Just sit tight, Claire. This will all be over soon."

Both Claire and Casey turning their heads towards the front door as the sound of car door's slamming reached their ears. "Not a sound, Claire." Casey whispered. Her smile was gone from her face, and was replaced by a look of concentration. "This will all go a lot easier if you be quiet, okay?"

Claire didn't get a chance to answer. Casey glanced at her briefly before disappearing. Claire gasped and glanced around wildly before her eyes fell on the brunette standing near the front door, her gun pointing at the smooth wood. _Did she just…. Did she just teleport?_

Claire slowly backed away, making her way towards the back door. Anywhere was better than where she was now. When she reached the back of the kitchen, she made a run for it. She leaped over to the back door and pulled it open. Not for the first time that day, Claire gasped in surprise as her eyes fell on someone she hadn't expected to be there. Long blonde hair decorated the woman's face, and her blue eyes were filled with the same sudden, startled surprise that Claire imagined was in her own.

"Watch where you're going, Pom-pom!" The woman said roughly as she pushed past Claire, immediately masking her surprise with irritation.

"Elle?" Claire gasped in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been asking myself that question over and over again." Elle answered shortly. "Now please don't make me regret coming any more than I already do." Claire just stared as Elle grumbled other comments under her breath.

"Claire?" A man said from the front door.

Claire spun around in shock, the makings of a smile beginning to form on her face. "Dad?" Her eyes fell on Noah Bennet, standing just inside the front door. "Dad!" She quickly crossed the room and flung herself into her father's arms.

"Hey, Claire-Bear," Noah said tenderly through Claire's relieved sobs.

Slivers of panic pulsed through Claire as she suddenly remembered everything before she saw her father. She pulled away from Noah and looked up at him urgently. "Dad, this girl came here, looking for you! She said her name was Casey—!"

"I know, Claire." Noah said over Claire's panicked words. "I asked her to meet me here."

All of Claire's alarm vanished, and was replaced by stunned silence. "…You…you know her?" she said finally. She looked to her left, her eyes falling on Casey. The brunette was leaning against the front door, watching the exchange between Claire and Noah with almost jealously. The gun was still in her hand, but she held it at her side, suddenly it didn't seem nearly as threatening at all.

"She works for the Company, Claire." Noah answered.

"Sorry for breaking up the reunion, Bennet." Casey said as she left her position by the door and walked towards the kitchen. "But I don't know how much time we have. They know where to find Claire now. I was lucky to get away when I did."

Claire stared at her, her mind barely processing the sudden revelation that was already threatening to overwhelm her. She barely noticed when Noah started speaking again.

"Casey, Elle. Keep watch outside. We don't know how much time we have left."

Casey nodded and disappeared with a sharp crack. Claire winced at the noise, she hadn't noticed the sound before, and it was still rather startling to see someone just vanish into thin air, even after everything she had seen. She directed her gaze towards Elle. The blonde was scowling rebelliously at Noah, but after a moment she turned and stalked towards the back door, disappearing outside. Claire turned her attention back towards her father. He was looking down at her, his mouth poised open like he was about to speak.

"We need to talk, Claire."

Claire stepped back from him, her emotions suddenly loosening at the disappearances of Casey and Elle. "What's going on, Dad?!" she said angrily. "Why are they here? Why are _you_ here?"

"It's not safe anymore, Claire. Not for you, not for anyone." Noah said grimly. "It's important that you understand. The Company is losing its hold on events. When a man named Adam Monroe and Peter Petrelli—"

"Peter?" Claire exclaimed. "He's alive?"

"Yes, Claire. He survived the explosion." Noah smiled briefly. "He and Adam Monroe attacked Primatech in Odessa. Their objective was the vault down in Level Five. Inside was a vial which held a virus that if unleashed, would decimate everything. Adam meant to release the virus, and deceived Peter into helping him. However, Peter destroyed the virus, and Adam disappeared, we don't know where he is, but right now, he is the least of our problems.

"While Peter and Adam were down in Level Five, they destroyed several security systems, and as a result, several people escaped from Primatech. Dangerous people, Claire, I can't stress that fact enough. We were lucky, though, we managed to recapture some and lock them away again, but five still managed to escape, and are now loose upon the world."

"What does this have to do with me?" Claire asked. "Are they coming after me?"

"You are a means to an end, Claire. Before you were born, I was finding these people, locking them away so they couldn't hurt anybody. Because they will kill and they will terrorize, and they will cause unimaginable destruction to the world. They're villains, Claire. And they want revenge on the Company and the people who locked them away."

"It's about you." Claire said softly. "They want to kill _you_."

"Yes. And they will use you to get to me. I'm sorry, Claire, if there was any other way for you to remain safe, I would take it. But right now, you have to come with us. You'll be safe with the Company."

"The same Company you took a bullet to protect me from! The same Company you moved us here to hide from!"

"Please don't argue with me, this is the best thing for you. You will be safe. Sandra and Lyle will be safe."

Claire fell silent, her mind attempting to process her father's revelations. She was so consumed that she barely noticed another sharp crack as Casey reappeared in the room.

"Noah, we've got trouble." Casey said urgently. "Someone's coming. One of _them_. Elle's waiting outside, but she won't be able to stop him. We need to leave, now!"

* * *

Elle watched in silence as the man slowly strode up the pavement towards the house. She couldn't see who it was from the distance, but he had an aura about him that sent chills down her spine. She hadn't felt anything like it before. Slowly, her eyes widened as the man seemingly split into two, forming into another person—the same person.

She forced herself to breathe as the man and his clone slowly closed the distance to her. Elle braced herself and allowed electricity to form in her palms, creating distorted shadows on the ground as the electricity glowed with fierce light.

The man and the doppelganger paused slightly and seemed to glare at her. Elle gulped under his menacing gaze and tried to push down the fear that threatened her as soon as the man's eyes fell on her. The electricity became brighter. She wouldn't let this man intimidate her, she couldn't.

The man and his doppelganger continued to walk towards her, and Elle braced herself for the inevitable collision.


End file.
